I feel something coming
Something important and strange
Maybe if I proof my soul
I'll be prepared to change.

My blood runs cold
My heart beats slow;
and I can see the world
groaning as it spins
upon the point
of a finger.

My pupils dilate
I fear it may be too late;
and trees are twisting
mouths are yawning
open to swallow
the stars.

My veins contract
Life no longer intact;
so far from the horizon
and that burning bright sun
dazzling my blind
creamy eyes.

1.
Your specimen:
the cat.
He lies, a stretched out
blob of
whirring, whizzing particles:
You can’t see them –
he can.

2.
His fur is
dried old carpet
left out on a front lawn:
homeless,
floorless;
waiting to be claimed.

3.
His eyes are
blank marbles
flicked by sticky fingers
in a game.
You won them
by cheating,
and stole them but they
turned to mush
in your hands, they
fell through your fingers, and
stained them with purple:
it would not wash off.
It grew:
an omnipresent reminder
trickling down your arms,
pooling at your elbows.

4.
You raise the scalpel:
it is a crescent moon
speckling down to
illicit behaviour
below.

5.
The portraits on the walls
applaud
when you make the first
CUT.
and reveal the
gooey caramel
dripping, circulating, inside.
It sticks to
the blade, forming
clumps of purple
that harden to a
crystallised-honey form.

6.
Later you sleep
with the cat;
he lies on your bed
and purrs
(does he purr?)
and you label the jars:
“Dissection 15”.

A resounding knock at the door,
a pair, with one killer smile stood
but how could she return it?
they barge in without waiting to be invited
the girl takes back her half of the smile at once,
and becomes the spokesperson
of the man with an intention,
from her strange countenance
one could discern in advance
the shock value of her request.

"As you know we live in great times
that value uncommon attainments more than ever,
we collect and auction them for the rich"

She didn't understand where they want to take her,
never heard the stream of tears would be the best sell
in an auction, though at times she was struck
by the sparkle that rivals the rarest of the real pearls

She stood perplexed in her hurt and pain, ancient
"Can't say how much we are fascinated
by your collection of grief, market is now wide
to accommodate, the variety of stuff in offer
your pain is so intense, it would certainly
create a stir in the heart of most hardened billionaire
we appreciate your persistence as a collector so rare"

She heard in deafening silence, the acidic voice trail off
is she saved or is it a bad dream yet again?

How strange it is of life
to love with no love in turn
How strange it is of life
that a cold shoulder can burn
How strange it is of life
that you bring a tear to my eye
How strange it is of life
that you let me pass you by

you're such an odd character

        a sixth toe
        the one piece of untrimmed hair
        the fan of a fad that has long ended
        the one question you got wrong on a test
        the single cloud in an almost sunny sky  

why won't you go away?