you can
pick me apart
piece by piece.

I promise you
that I can
handle the pain.

experiment on me,
sedate me,
cut me open
and study me.
I can take it.

all I ask is that
when you put me
back together again,
please leave my trauma
out on the operating table.

The shapes of sleep

Day smoke that flows throughout our waking hours
released to tease and twist our darkling thoughts to landscapes, cities of the quiet mind

Shadow towers defined by nothing more than fancy and a little fact
the unassuming act of pressing day on night

Unconscious distant learning stoked by fear to feed and keep its belly still, and a little yearning when we need it

Our treasures taken from that mental box we keep

unlocked, explored and plundered deep

The grey and somewhat shop - worn curtains, covering the shapes of sleep

now
your mouths must stay away
from this big bowl
and go to the ocean
to assume your own responsibility

or to another shore
to make lots of money
that will stuff up your pockets
and your souls
and let your heads stay forever in the hothouse
so well-fed and well-clad
that you won't have to think of today
or tomorrow

*Before an experiment on dolphin communication with humans was terminated,  scientists had to train the two dolphins that were used in the experiment so that they could survive in the ocean.

Encephalon is the flagitious syndicate target
To imprison the saintly and resistant population
In the research agenda which is classified
We are selected guinea pigs in a nightmare
To the unethical secret operations
Unknown to many, is the silent suffering
Of isolated victims living amongst the community
Satellite surveillance includes electromagnetic harassment
That burning, thought stealing, control of limbs feeling
I was done by the hoary Navy's sonar
Poor dolphins washed up Cornwall's beach(1)
After sonar echoed in my right lughole
Mind control technology has evolved
The community are recruited by false propaganda
Thats the local police, council, library, not restricted to neighbours
Old style Cointelpro is in play
Discredited, slanders, and victim blaming
Who can we share with but other targets
Nobody asked which human is for "use" in trials?

Be,
As a love
Whom together,
Discovers
The art of sin

Ask,
Not of the wrongs
Nor rights
But,
If the sweet cherry
Seeps or flows

Approach,
A figure, yet
Merely a reflection
In fruits,
Not leaves

Gaze,
Vanilla cream
Opposing,
One robust
In darkness
And desire

Fuse,
The sensation
Of honey dancing
Upon buds,
Of taste

Addiction,
The willingness
To enable,
The expedition
And art of sin

In the center of the strawberry is  
hollow

in your ears echoes
the budding want licks

sweet from her tongue