lifeblood carefully unfurling its branches
in the marrow’s guardian cells
connecting with permeable walls
when pressure is looking for an elastic collision and
the steady stream animats the soul
bursting into a state of internal ataraxia

Crossing the eastern stream,
I met a friend.
His shell, hard as he slowly
traverse across the water.
Crouching down, I asked him.
Oh turtle, why do you move so slow,
Yet never stop inching forward?

The air around me blows
like static --
water rushing
on a porcelain countertop
full of both memories
and feelings.
weeping roses cover
my nostalgia for better times
but the noises!
oh the noises!
***** at my brain and force
me into staring at my own hands.
Quite small, they look
in comparison with what I believe them to be.
Humming  and whirring strike
the darkness around me.
I can't believe this used to be home.

One. I ask my Dad what day it is, again. Two. I had a nightmare that our block of flats was exploding whilst I ran away, do you think this reflects my fear of the virus, doc? Three. Chocolate porridge at 2pm, maybe its a bit late for porridge. Four. I think I accidentally chucked my propranolol tablets into the bin. Five. I take a bike ride round the village and I get intrusive thoughts about knocking over old people, on purpose, for fun. Six. I’m back to the flat and the ceiling looks like it’s lower than usual, did I grow a few inches? Seven. I can’t remember the last time I saw Emma, must have been when she cried in Wetherspoons, someone crying with you is better than no friend. Eight. My breathing turns shallow I think, I check my symptoms. Nine. I imagine dying of it and look back at my twenty-five years like a montage and get really overwhelmed and then I start to watch an old Mickey Mouse cartoon on my laptop. Ten. I just spotted a really plump pigeon outside. Eleven. Is this how hamsters feel, trapped inside with a few things to stimulate them. If so, I’m so sorry Martin (my old hamster). Twelve. The frustration sets in like thick molasses filling in the grooves of my soft brain. Thirteen. I turn to drawing and just end up sketching a huge mouth swallowing a rat. Fourteen. It’s bedtime and I settle down with a book. American ******. Patrick just killed a dog and it set me off sobbing. Fifteen.  I close my eyes and wish for a better day tomorrow. Is it going to be Tuesday or Wednesday?

Sleeves worn by broken trees-
I repeat
As the world goes on in glee
Defeat
No less a somber fellow
Borrow now he borrows

And burrows into your cotton cave-
A man
With a fluid feeling he misunderstands
Dead land
Where pain is of no mention
Tension here there tension

Indentations and stipulations on the seed of a neutered soul-
We must
And you lose or have lost it as you taste the cavernous hole
Of trust
Ribald fellow your weather betrays you it hangs your skull
On a lacking cloud that paints your spindly skin so dull

Gather what you must in the pool of shallow loving and shame-
No spine
As eminence confounds you and status escapes your stolen name
You shine
With the charms of dead brothers and the cruelty of a mother
Should you seek the soil now know that none will be bothered

Epitaph of viscous fellow
Of whom I knew well without asking
And befriended while basking
In his whiskey nozzle chin
Milking his Acadian shin

Suffice it to say
How aroused was I!
To pet this neutered butterfly
His legs a stiff boulder
Caressed by petaled shoulders

Thick, incumbent man
Dream yourself a body
Where you are all but folly
And laugh at the notion
Of your ceaseless implosions

Remember: no pen will cure that shaky hand of yours, nor that uncomfortable disposition. Steel yourself on your own terms, hapless and rankless hoplite. Carry your tools with their appropriate weight. Be the stone child of many a previous dream. When the vain and physical body fails you, don't fret, for you have designed it to do so. Such a moment is a call to arms, to seek derangement in all else: the soul and the brain! Dream them electric! Follow them into their demise, and be ready to pull them from the womb!

So I lost again
Again to another friend
I don’t want to get in the way
So I don’t
I stay in my place
[Hell, I even give advice]
I think....
I don’t know what to think
All I know is I’m jealous
But I shouldn’t be
He’s not mine
I don’t own him
I didn’t even know I had feelings for him
But every time he tells me
About his “endeavors”
I break a little more
My walls build a little higher
Because I know one day he’s going to do or say something
And it’ll make me want to break my walls
So I built a door
I shouldn’t have
I know that
But it’s there now
It’s locked
But he has the key
And one day he’ll unlock that door
And I’ll break some more