I've been trying to tell a different story
most my life,
slip through the day like a dragged carpet
down an empty hallway

Disarranged, I took my face apart in a spotty mirror the other day
(Attactched, dissattached; when you allow your eyes to hover
free from you nose, when you trace the crackling festoons
with a black filter tip. One's face is a jigsaw that runs
at the reel of a zoetrope, a painting in real time

The lonesome Dorian Grey dishevelled at 4 in the morning in a ****** council flat
not looking forward to going home to a mess. not looking forward to my own company)

Cousins up Niece is up nurse is up nephews a step or two off from adolescence it's insanity

I remember holding each of them as soon as they were born
like they were only (their own little) yestardy's

seen them grow and become who they are as I grew contempt waiting

It's been a wild year or two, expurging the last year or twenty

And understanding how I got to where I'm at and how I reacted thus far when things never went according to plan

And I've still a lingering parental instinct
enstilled from my mother, God bless her she's still fighting
Though everyone lost their faith. Face still fractured,
My mirror crowned me with the reflection of my father and I thanked it kindly as it deemed me a *******

I try not to rush through the days,
Soak it up kid you're only this age once
This day is the best day ever, best minute, best second
best time of my life, My reason for living
and I'm too stunned at that thought to even enjoy it--

I live in the future and the world goes on as is
and it's gone
and it's gone and it's gone and it's gone and it's gone and it's gone and it's gone and it's gone

Trapeze artists
Swinging on a denuded branch
Colony of bats

floating it seems
above the cities and Merchants i so desperately Crave to ground through
i cannot faiL
only yOu who haVe conquerEd my doubt
i walk onward
without fear of what iS to come
the smell of popcorn and ridicule is ripe in the air
those who pray for mY failure have ascended my egOtistical ways
you will not touch me
as i stand Upon a rope so thinly cut you wonder of its existence altogether
i know below me lies too much strength to lose
too many lovers have let me fall and not enough saints have held my chariot
i feel too keen to be

Locked knees
On a trapeze
Are sure to cause catastrophes