the sun will die
but not for a long time
not before our own infinities
collapse into the absurdity and
the unimportance of it
all.

the sun will die
but not before goodwill
closes its doors one last time.
so long ****** $1 books and
memories of old people couches
that smelled like **** and beer and your great-grandfather's
apartment.

yeah, the sun will die
but not before those
kids who used to pick on you
and that ******* on the train
who got kicked in the ***** for making lewd comments in the quiet car
become worm food for
more decent creatures.

the sun will ******* die
so be glad.
everything ends including
all us *******,
us heavy breathers and
old ladies and ex-cons and alcoholics and plain humans.

the sun will die
but we got other things to worry about
more relative than all the others
so we may as well
enjoy
the
wait.

What’s a big bowl
But a ******’s boat
And what is peace
To a Jamnapari goat

Everything is relative
Said Leon Trotsky
But he was a raging communist
So he can rot in hell-ski

my belly grows the size of a bag of apricots
there is a will at the bottom of a lake that needs retrieving
the car sank but the body made it to the shore and changed her name by midnight
come springtime the ice melts and the water is back
crawling upon shy ankles
there are growing pains who find a home between nettles and
the hives of adobe wasps
i never could cohabitate with nature
when they ask at parties where i've been
things that are at rest stay at rest

She will sit at 1am
Thinking of what she did wrong
And draw absurd conclusions that
She just wasn’t good enough for you

She will
Toss and turn at 2am
Asking herself why you
Let her go so easily

She will cry at 3am
Thinking of how you
Let her fall
Knowing well
You never intended
Of catching her

She will want to
Hate you at 4am
But instead find herself
Scrolling through
Your pictures

She will want you
To hold her tight at 5am
And tell her you miss her
Whilst you kiss her forehead so gently

She will catch herself at 6am
Sleeping at the thought of you
Telling her you love her
And how you never want
To let go

She will wake up at 7am
To a wet pillow
Because you let her sleep
Wondering if you ever cared
About her the way you claimed you did

She will start her day
Trying to find a piece of you
In the men she offers herself to
Only to find disappointment waiting for her

She will drown her wild thoughts with drugs
Just to numb the pain
She will call, cry and scream out your name
With a heavy heart;
That is yearning to be with you..

billowing black clouds,
a silly sneeze of a rain;
such an absurd scene!

Alfredo Alfresco was born
In tesco's,
Right by the self service
Checkout.
It's an act from beyond.
(God's always been, well,
A bit peroxide blonde)
As to why,we haven't
Enough much information
To say.
After all, meanings can
Move in a mysterious way.

Welcome to
The theater stage,

          Where we are
          Made of dreams

Just acting out
The scenes of life,

          With laughs, and cries,
          And screams

Until the final
Curtain call,

          When we will
          Take our bow

And wonder what
‘Twas all about,

          With no one
          In the crowd...

.

Poor old Howard.
He's a Cornflake coward.
Jumps art the sound
Of each crunch
And brittle bite.
Giving up the fight,
In his act of
Guttless confession.

His mother was a
Breadcrumb beater.
His dad was a
Post box persecuter.
His sister a sadistic
Spider spinner.
And each night they
Ate cornflakes for
Dinner.

Cornflake coward;
No need stress at
Their crunchiness.
In time; milk
Will soften their design.
Giving you a chance to
Chill and recline.