i am full of red flags
the difference between you and i
is i look at you
and see them too
but i can still look beyond them

Whose sacred have I not corrupted,
with the air I breathe,
dead and not, the zombie or the gumby
mudmen of legend,

*** down, old mind, in see, insight, function
cave mind blind, flowing in the ever of you,

you may not be
anybody, but
you are some body, a little bit of the little blue man,
that scared your grandmother to bits,
'pon my word, scatter-brained, until,

one day, I was this broom -or brooming, I was
a funny way of brooming, oh, no
sweeping me into the mysterious coincident,
with the blonde at the edge of Null Arbor Plain,

I am dust in her wind, she is infected with me,
we shall have daughters, two, homogenized us,
in them, and one shall hold the seed,
call it done, I am the one, who seals the deal,

we make peace, that holds for centuries,
Ever rest pax, shippam us, in pajamas

say good night Grandpa, I do, too.

I wonder about summer days
and screaming until my voice is hoarse;
of time that runs like oil
and gets between my fingers,
of how you hate the taste of olives.

It's April.
It's living again, breathing something other than car fumes
and I'm sat breathing smoke again,
hand dangling out of my bedroom window.

I stare at green.
I make jokes.
I do the things.

But there's a hollowness.
A warning of sticky, forever days that
cling to the surface of my skin;
bloom like spring in my lungs and starve me of oxygen
with an aggressive, loving life to them.

yes.
it hurt.
it all hurts.

i want to forgive you.