Touch -
The most significant insignificance.
Sight -
The slightest intention.
Hearing -
The loudest silence.
Taste -
The most complicated intricacy.
Smell -
The love of the non-discriminatory.
You -
The "when all else fails".

the scratch of a record player
and a burst of static fills up
every corner of the room
thoughts in my mind are static

scratchy and skipping around
always bursting in annoyingly
during the best part of the song
intrusive and impulsive ideas

there the track skips a song
needle down another groove
losing track of the beginning
my mind down the rabbit hole

There are six ways to die on my table top

There are four ways to get lost in my cupboard

There are seven men drowning in my bottom drawer

There’s a coma above the ceiling fan

and an incinerator under my covers


Under the bed is a mouse trap

In the sink is a death trap

In the gap between the walls

is the most appalling noise

and my radio produces

only the frantic breaths of fitness breeders


The tortured hide under my pillow

(though they belong in my ears)

The glass in the window is made

of the slowest distorting tears

(I never produced them)


The carpet covers my blood

My clothes are covered in sod

The wallpaper hides my dreams

and my dreams have spilled at the seams

I collect masks that are the person I hid

Where do I sit ?

The door is a lid

The room is too warm

Enclosed

An expanding balloon

Paint me in the colors that you want me to be in.
Kiss me just as passionately as the colors burst right in front of your eyes.
Touch me like the rain does so casually.
Drip, drop.
Down, up.
Let me hear the soft tunes of those lullabies as I slowly fall asleep so deeply.
goodnight.

Go go, I'm going crazy
seeing everything at once

an overall picture from here
and there and from above and the side

the world, my room
the field full of sunflowers

in a vase and another vase
everything patched together

to fictional points of view
that blend into one another

like my brain does
with everything

that the nerves mercilessly
shoot in from my eyes

a collage like a painting
by Vincent van Gogh

Synapses crossing signs,
a mental ruse.
Where to draw the lines?
When senses mix cues?

Hearing sensations
Feeling hues
Tasting sounds
A sensory diffuse.

He smelled of soap, leather, cigarettes and heartbreak

To close my eyes

Such a slight and easy voyage
To cancel out the ******

Like taking a step
Into a puddle
And falling
Five thousand feet
Into blue water
With no light
But there’s still a glistening
And you feel it

Even in the center we have our senses
Feeling cold and warm within our safety
Introspection is such a safe and lonely place

I have a place
In my memory
That’s more than
Just a place

It’s a taste
A smell
A color
A feeling
A sound
And more

It’s hard to explain
But every now and then
My mind goes there
And I’m at that place

It’s only there for a moment
Not long enough to pinpoint exactly
What or where or why or when
This place is to me

But it’s definitely something
I’ve always known
Since I was a child
Probably love or family or home.