The march
never tells true
stories of weary legs.
Through great jungles of green and steel,
aching.

Press on,
we urge against
the ground dragging beneath.
Unconquerable, every day
they walk

Sharkie

measles that
are hypocrisy
when a
hypocrite as
such was
Hansen's Disease
so theoretically
die in
luxury with
tapeworm that
****** larvae
from Brexit
where tis
Patrick's arm
and harmful
as armpit
in squaller

You are hidden
in the back of my brain and repressed
in an attempt to be forgotten.
Only to be remembered
when triggered by a touch or voice.

You rise from the shadows,
making yourself known,
conquering all my other memories,
pushing everything aside.

You dominate my head,
I applaud you for your assertiveness,
always winning the battle,
King of my mind,
until you are lost
no more.

Glowing metal
is taken directly
from a forge
and thrown
into a sea.
The blue
steaming
salt-hiss:
her eye.

We talk politics in the shower.
You shampoo your beard,
I condition my armpit hair.
Good morning coffee breath.
I love you like a palindrome.
Tragic comedy, our physical love stretched
thin
over distance.
Endings always differ.
Moon circles scream it’s raining on me.
Serotonin’s been locked up for years, I put her somewhere safe.
Check you’re alive with a finger *****, comedy of errors sings an ode in my left ear.
Here
beard bristles
brush hair
light back catch
sensitivity sits
less lower lip
fold
selves
in
scene end
stage right
pick up towel
EXIT.