i.
you evils,
you way back when;
the bud of youth torn open.
voodoo dolls, one for everyone you
know. mine your favourite.
stab the button eyes.
twist the straw torso.
stamp it out with the heel of your foot.
and i: confined for years,
steeped, like tea, in misfortune.
you elude the fates, karma, cosmic intelligence,
and tanged, twenty two months ago, life
thread in a tight knot,
ready to be snipped.
ii.
tar floods the eyes
and spews out like the **** of a spot;
acne-ridden teenager. that’s
all i was. crater-boy.
now i am stupid-boy.
subservient to the waves that jostle,
the spurs of your moods.
a marionette propped up on charles bridge,
forced to wave and smile.
day by day a diminishing, a fading —
a mystical dementia ravages.
people go, but never come, tired and bored.
the slow death far from over.
iii.
rotting but still alive.
those ol’ friends are fiends.
