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Spicy Digits Sep 4
You scream
"NORMAL!, NORMAL!"
in broken Pig Latin.

You dream in whiteness
And self-pleasure to
Freud's mother.

Nimble sausage digits
Scribble words
That become homelessness.

You pathologise my honesty
Diagnose my innocence
And reduce my intelligence
To black ink.

You call me a child,
While talking from yours,
Terrified.  

Little boy be gone.
You have made your mark.
A skid mark, a mark nonetheless.
Spicy Digits Sep 4
Don't force it
Don't force it

Slow down

This moment's yours
It came to meet you

Don't you realise?
Don't you realise?

Time is a sweet perfume
Dressed as a murderer
Spicy Digits Jun 20
Sweet soul
Yesterday's gone.
There's fields ahead
Baby, stretch your legs.
This bright face
This tender heart.
Keep close the sun
Keep their words apart.
Spicy Digits Jun 14
Grounded me earthside
Fingers of twine

Pulled me from him
Steadied my spine

Fingers of dread
Waiting, waiting

Pointing to the door
Aching, aching

Tap my sternum
Baby's lullaby

Help me breathe
Write me right
Spicy Digits Jun 4
I was the idiot clown watching the well-suited circus

It was at the 14th tooth whistle that my brain said goodbye

So many words had died and were forced to the front of her mouth

I scanned her face with intrigue

Such formality had caused deep ravines to form around her eyes, her lips

She had signed and surrendered her personality for this job years ago

Perhaps it was the price she paid to be found worthy of listening to

I wondered if she in a small corner of her home loved to turn inside out. Dance.

I wondered

Before being interrupted with another ambiguous, impossible question

But I couldn't care, just as her voice couldn't care

The circus was still in session.
Spicy Digits Jun 4
I circle the abyss,
It does not speak.

I cry for it to answer,
It does not speak.

I am never alone,
It is always there.

I arrive in hot earnest,
But leave in warm care.

Those condemn me to it,
See only me in a dress.

They don't see it behind me.
They don't hear my footsteps.

So I do not speak,
When I am alone

And it does not speak,
But we both know.
Spicy Digits Jun 4
Too much
For too long

Hurricane head winds
Head strong.

There's a socket
Unlit fuse

Movement's a'brewing
Missing a muse

I am hated
I am confusing
I am confused
But still refusing.

Too much
For how long?
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