low by day    a massive moon full
a bowl of candy pallor            
and this city is taken   to a more charming realm

more than one figure takes out a camera
aims                  and   i am not a real person
     but i am represented
       by an attempt     at something 'in bounds'
                       playing it safe
i feel like greeting
     and if truly bold  asking others
      of the quality of their experience right now

.

mostly  i've lead a harmless life                            
(as harmless as a human passively could)
  watered down       at most drowning
     at most passionate   ( but for a while only)
decent imitation of life
safe... but none of this is safe is it ?                    
i am part of the expanded programme    
and it's operating at fault (as intended ?)
and the damage is massive

well aren't you the gallowgas ?                                  
           you cram the funeral into fun
hiding in a private room    suckling at your sad self
whilst secretly hoping  to be found lonely
depressions' muppet
                            *****  like confession
and hungry like the wound

.

erasing                                                       ­                   
  he rubbed and grubbed himself out  groinally
built up  with huffs and gummings of dead skin
                      all over his body
 in his mind  mothy thoughts                    
                                    became dust laden              
      and a glut of clay amassed in the gut
  all this in tomb   with his sole role  and room          

  tut-tut   he did it to himself
this is his wealth  and his jury
  peers back through time  into the wound
                              kick started it all
with excessive candy consumption   and aggressive firestarting
                     and compulsive theft   and blendlessness and obliving
ever worried    ever unmended
   arc back through the heart
         and refine the child
                as unfeigning          
                   and correctly naive

'the kid' leaps  sudden  from bed                    
points  in fright  toward the 'hippy' curtains
                      "i'm scared of ghosts in pyjamas"

the older i am met                                                      
the bolder the thatch-work of scabbing        
walls are thrown up in front of new ideas
and i am redirected       

the resinous connective issues  of the brain
     mineralization of thought
told and taught knots of gristle                                     
                    ­               enforced from childhood    they surface

i remember how things 'ought be'
the ways my parents parents  parented me
              the lessons recrystallize
cold hard classroom rosin develops       
 held in robust bond   well sold ideas are solid now 
                                         and they defy challenge

but challenge  i must insist        
                    as i resist  into reclining years
and fight this cementing form                               
founded on the dead corrective tissue
that is welcomed   by aging

.

a fat grey day   welling with troubles                                    
                                     it's been taken over   by the news
the human world turns over another sorrow
lording over today                            
    and borrowing from tomorrow
   weathered are to be    the years to come
     not knowing what joke
        the world could
       end upon

you drive my car    and i am a serious man
a passenger   thru dumbland                  
leadened head laid back                
i've been allotted time   in that liquid sky
totally fxxxed up   but it's bin a day  hasn't it?

don't breathe                              
           we are gone
beyond     we are eyes without a face
our inter-beings   all blood tea and red string
in the wrong hands   we are a ****** party
hand in hand you are my spider baby        
                    and i  am all ‘mom and dad’ at play
i dread you should say 'i don't know what you mean ?'
...but it doesn't come to that
you allow me          
           and we are smiles unravelling space and texture
miles of scope and no arrest for the wicked
no rest for the foreign
no reign for the horses   no horse for a kingdom
we are kings of this country                        
    yet we belong to this landscape
and its negative edible

riding with you (roof down  converted)            
we joined the new world                                    
we took a journey   to the beginning of time      
    it feels like we're fleeing   an extravagant shared criminal act
i look across at you  and the brood of thoughts    
are so sedate and fantasy ***** and socially writ
that i broker the realities we’ve borrowed                 (the flux gourmet splatter of dimensions)
and return us to the pair of cannibals in love that we are
                                          firing out across trip america
           an invention for destruction
invited back by life's appetite


                                             [signed] ­- a love exposure

in pursuit of you                          
i put myself in harms way
something ‘teethy’  entered my bloodstream
and  flooded   i hoped for the best

we crashed   and meddled   and crashed
again
a fixed ache  we were yanked back to
chairs, tables, sofas, beds
bending to the shapes and endurance levels
sounding off of their abilities to aid our act
          even thrown over washings machines
tatting against their vibrations
tossed about in bathrooms                                      
our clothing pulled from us outdoors
risking winter exposure
                                    dragged to the gritty pavement
and hurled against solid public art
all very much in tune                                            
        with natures ludic intentions
           and without a mote of embarrassment
                                               on our part

.

jump     -     start
heart-wired  flash-fired
fore and aft      i'm wit-lashed
ride   a  scutting  state   (oh-my-hate)
glare   at the creature  (will  it  look  away ?)
i'm    jolty      a    s l e e p y  menace
death        in  the  drivers   seat
slur down  drowsing
jump     -    start

.

.

often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle
day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing
  nodding into conversation  and durring out          
                                 like a tiny failing electric fan
  struggling to appear present and take part
   then whirring   into a congested cumulus  

a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee
she dribbles her features into her colourful lap
her words become a slury chum of incoherence
(she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her
she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether)

i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature)
the opposing to what may seem                                                
                 this fella supports my depressions feature being
and monitor's my decline
fleshed out to drain me                                                          
      whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision
shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face
i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                          
                           and rot in the anxious conglomeration
a distracted reality from reality already conquered
                         flagged and declared ;    
the phony thing that's real

.
you're at the front door                                    
you're in through the front door   my door 
  without knocking
face flushed with malice and ****** visions  
"uh-huh" i say
there's a cotten shopping bag                          
                    of who-fears-what   in one mitt
and you throw yourself                    
                   on my sunken couch
you unzip those mad pricy leather boots
with flames down the sides
and clutch your bag to your chest  
with meaning and taunt
        leaning toward
                  a smile  crocodiles your face
          your clock ; three forty seven
your mind ; immersed in some midnight woo
a witching verse and a fortune boastful and blue
am i to be involved in your clockwork mockery ?
(i have been your collaborator                          
              and coal mine canary in the past)
  do i even want to be invited ?
i don't know any better   i am  as always  excited
"alright, i'll bite .. what's in the bag ?" i say

old lady passed out                
wind and leaves do battle      
she is plagued by shadows
is it rude to wake the sleeping
to check they're not dead ?

time is fettered                                          
new leaf litter       feathers my doorstep

time is fettered                                          
letters remain by the door
silence fills my chest

the wind carries feathers                        
flecked in blood
(violence in the food chain)
my brain releases
               and silence fills my chest

bloom wounds brightly
ignition
ventilated scents      and the air is roused

flood this forrest          
         like you forecast
and test how true      
         the treehouse i grew

i lay my body dough out                              
        a soft slab of relief                                       
                           cooled on the fire escape
                          loaning my spore to the night

.
and your mug shot's shining through
it's a vision true   (but the subject's taboo)
              all             ugly               here
morning sunshine    breakfast table    autumn cool
you're poised to speak   a fly lands on your lolling spoon    
then   i stand up merry                                      
i make my vital move      the table backs away  distressed
your eyes raise
   i flop open my faminous mouth   and let the fumes draw in
Surprise !
(no time for you to hold surplus breath -                             
- form an expression - make any objection)
              mechanism disjoints    like the raw riches
i whip the plumb weight of my head   and strike
mouth-chomp-grip   over your scalp
and i am working you in
with swift jaw shifts and hingery

i **** on you with a smile and gullet                                      
  (past photos of you   shuffle glaucous before my inner eye)
yap sock muscle   i operate   gumming on your head
(ours was the world ; we got so lazy)
budging in your hair   dampened by my saliva
(our timid first meeting at a bar)
and airway and my teeth softly folding back
(us in bed-us in bed-us-in-bed)
                                   and whole hog jaw agog
(the tourist we made as a couple)
i dilate and distend  crouch low to take your weight
(the rise and falter of your sleeping chest)
upend  your hands panic typing in the air        
(the eyes of your investment in me)
your feet flinging the heft back and forth   
    your shoulders break in and forward folding
my chest cracks and wells                            
(gifts we gave that touched heart and others that fell short)
a complete engulfing meal of you                
(your childhood antidotes and teenage feelings we discussed)
down my soft disposal                                  
   (all my memories of us in a fizz                                      
                         and all the inaccuracies)

...and then i head off to hibernation    
      ferrying an idea that ' i have you now '
           that   perhaps you were my enemy            
                                              a­ll this time
and i am digesting the beast
                      (what a feast !)

i stepped out woven  buttoned  and bully capped
out here i'm been wuthered at   frayed like unreliable memory
       remitted the wrongdoing of being inhuman human and cussed
mattered at with an action  of feral direlessness
an hour spent  in autumnal nature
roughhoused and chilled  in a familial way
                               welcomes a vibe of maddened liaison

.
our noses huffing   our eyes flirting out
             vetting the loose night air
a display of yearning   we did a grand deed

a mammal slain at our heart
   and we are the wrecking children  
we killed ourselves a deer
   ( no   small   thing )

flashlights propped in nooks                                                          
open the prey for dressing    we decorated a tree with the task
                                                  slings of intestinal tubing

open prey for dressing            
                 vocal prayer for the ****

praise the attributes that we ended            
                             the characteristics we assigned it
live meat in perish   organs   adding moist hot breath
                                                 to a waking cold night

after our butcher act                                                
after the parcels and beast are stowed                        
amongst the trees   we take off as phantoms in touch                
'to ourselves be sacrifice and yet return'   is somehow the plan

winds pick up                                            
                            and cold rain drives sideways
leaves of the bushes                              
                  flashing fish silver underbellies
a fleshing thrill combing the trees
an urgent spirited excitement

back at daybreak                                                        
                             we skin off our leather grip slippers
remove our party plate masks                                      
and  in the irrigated mourning grass          
              wipe our feet                               
wash away our tread and our threat

i watched a movie today                                            
        and it made me think a lot about houses
what a threat they are to us                                       
                        how they tighten in on our fears
  and contain ***** hobbies
slyly       
    adjust our moods and personalities                             
                  tuning us to match their wallpaper
  their architecture  angling our minds                         
they make us fierce tail tiger chasing captives
presence extends                                                          
                      and we are for always on a leash of expenses                    
            leased out to the world   only for toil                                   

                 houses shelter us from the elements
so that we may lament                                              
                                          and carry our damage
like mourning  through generations                        
                             and fill them with rewarding
     gummy treats                                                                   

                                            what ugliness is made  
         without the weather to worry it all away
...anyway.. that's how i felt                                               
                             after i watched a movie today

warm deluge has passed          
concrete smells steam                
wading the dystopic streets      
my child squeals                        
(cooled rain dripped from a tree)

they prayed for rain                  (so tired   so drained)
they wanted relief   crops    and to relive   
                   through their supporting bulbous god
the rains came    and my body tightened with itch                      
                                  the chored limbs ached
flints of pain   ticked behind the eyes
but there was so much rain            and there was flooding
cause there were no trees   to root everything together
no absorption        
but much concrete to dictate the fast flow
and then it rained like blood  and people freaked
(it was only desert pigment or algae)     and then it rained fish
but there was too much to harvest  pickle and eat                                          
                   ­                 and spoil brought stench and plenty of flies
and then it rained frogs   that weren't able to polish off the flies
          cause they'd splattered with the impact  
and then...                                                                  ­           
the praying stopped   and the people plugged up their senses
and retreated indoors all puffed
                                 and angry and pathetic
and i went out for a walk                              
          solitary   except for the thriving carrion

.
i launch from within                                                           ­                   
      the critical business of sleep and dreamwork          
                                                   and into the pre-furnished day
mucus skin                                            
like the first gobbed up evolver   to get turfed up on the beaches
i let go the veils   of those true solving agents
the motions     those treasurable scenes
of bloom and swoon tidal theatre
                     they disperse
and i tough out a self applied                      
                                   ­        measured  and subservient routine
          a hasty and unrewarding approach to   'productive'  business  
                                                              it­ brings me distaste
but   cements me in shared society
passer bys throw up their greetings
                                and i heave 'hellos' in return

grey day of rain  drains
indoors
i needn't share the days mood

.

[         I   M   A   G   E                                O   F         ]


[         E   M   P   T   Y                     G   R   E   Y         ]


[         C   I   T   Y              S   T   R   E   E   T   S         ]


D   E   P   R   E   S   S   I   O   N
————————————
within depression, practices toward happiness
seem like something insincere...  a betrayal of self

.

our collusion                        
lamplight to sunlight
                    our conclusion

our collision                        
boom-town to ghost-town
                    our concussion

our discussion                     
   overnight did mushroom
   but     by the morning light  
                      ceded the fight

.

my soughing mind                                                        
turn­s life toilsome
summer's charms                become an endurance

so..like what we discussed the other day
                                       'to feel so infect-able'
i mean, cool concept and all but                                            
               you said you get it   and-and that's how i feel
                                                          you know ; all of the time
... like my brain is open and unprotected                    
         floods of **** other guys say  or **** i read online
stuff doesn't even make sense
they're just chewing on a mouthful of teeth
                                                        and­ it imbeds
gets right in the jelly and sticks around  
and it has nothing to do with anything       
                 but  i'll spend the day with my mood crumpled                
about some nasty '*******' directors              
behaviour on a film set ... when ...you know
it's not even a film i'm interested in seeing
and-and there's so much **** right at our front door
     we could help with that                                         
 but.. it's this irrelevant stuff
                                                that's what i'm occupied with
am i just that vulnerable ?   i'm an adult..                                  
           i should function without this damage
... get back to me as soon as you can ;   i'm freaking man !…..
you know what ?                                                                ­        
        this is what's important        and this is why we talk                
friends .. in the real world .. you know  such as it is
...left mucking stale turns before dawning a birth
pleasing   as drawing in a vital breath or something...
...i just.. i just want it back
re-slee­ve me
i miss the world
why did it leave me behind ? remind me
i looked in on it and there's no **** hotel in here
no airport lounge / midnite swimming pool /          
                                 abandoned zoo / empty theatre
no hollow feeds of subway tunnels                          
no void on anything
where's my basic program ?                          
       not even a grid of human planted fir trees
                               or a giants causeway
   or some cellular honeycomb
                      or some mad carpet design
i lost the pattern tap
           i'm off the leash man
           it's all a mess
             a disarray
              organic chaos
                a foreign something
      that doesn't want me to connect
i want to live like i’m part of the solution
but   each day in struggle                                          
           it seems i'm increasingly an aspect of the problem
i need to be reigned in
        and reassigned a post   policed
police me        i croon for policing
                          i am untrustworthy
an emulsion of self deception          
            (what does that even mean ?)
         spinning turns in quick fix habits
i look at these hands
  and     if I could dream these hands
                 they’d be magicians of value
get back to me man ! i miss yupping with you
this is the important stuff
           
                                               ­             - message ends