Fibre optic cables,
clipped conversations,

partial strangers,
networked communications,

keyboard ambiance,
anxious remonstrations,

system failures,
nicotine meditations

smudging frames,
hierarchical mediation,

computerised bleeps,
opaque mechanisations,

brightening windows,
verbose inflections,

silks ties,
limited reverberations,

exaggerated flirtation,
bowel eliminations,

pointless days,
power imitations,

numeric values.
insurmountable situations,

digital bleeds
eventual discontinuation

The sky takes its rest,
Bright but elderly
What we are is still new enough
We keep abreast of the smoothness in each other,
at behest of your more rational spirit,
I aspire to glide through days,
But sometimes I fixate on details,
Keen and intense like the sun in memories,
I drown at times in the now
Limbs possessed by the sweet whatever,
Your passage is smooth,
A vision of composure wherever you go.

The sun is a dreadful satsuma,
A man who looks like an Algernon,
with tomato sauce stains on his offwhite vest paces nervously,
Lives discarded,
As books turn to ash, word lost into the unrelenting forward waddle,
Memory palaces unmoored and imploding,
The sky pregnant with skin and consumer goods,
As sheet metal drops and curls like polyester scarves,
The hideous snake like hisses of sirens,
Eyes darkening like a newborns.

Moments ash-the sun is giving up-cowardly like flailing arms--it is a monster dropped----slotted together bodies, corseted and franked----undulating beams of fury---an old man groans in a polo shirt, wait it is the seer----he passes by -full of quintessential humanity---he was the heir to the steam engine---alloted time emitting smoke----hands massaging ducts----frankly nothing will stop---the onward march of nonsense---blue eyed and confused---angels caked in syrup

Passing in valleys and sunrises,
Setting and withering away,
There is no monotony housed in
The skin of naked daydreaming,
Some things are never quite finished,
Dancing in the full view of the congregation,
Asking to run it back,
Asking the same questions,
Going somewhere else but returning.

obey the sea for now,
further instructions will follow in the chirps of birds,
the silence between seasons,
the friction between elderly humans,
the yellowing of the halo of angels fallen,
the rotting of discarded fruit

With tears streaming down my surprisingly gaunt cheeks,
I hide out in a public toilet like it is a cave in somewhere much more exotic than this,
I am not a ****** addict as per accusations but I don't feel so good,
Useless at collecting money for a charity
Just another thing to feel uneasy about,
My brain and happiness are a half-****** dial-up connection
I bawl my fists up like an infant testing out his hands.
I think about shadow boxing but feel too lethargic to do so.
If Floyd Mayweather is money than I am poverty
A woman who looks like a Beverley, asks me if I am OK.
I lie that I am and thank her.
Deception is a necessary weapon at times.
Perhaps I am too far from home.