enamelled armies
draw up battle lines
inside the cave of my mouth

as I sleep
they fight the war of stress
that rages in my head
shattering incisors
grinding molars
into paste

no one is going to win
no one is giving up
pretty soon I won't have anything
to smile about

my muse teases me
with the faintest of smiles
then is gone
unrequited love
leaving a sweet taste
of what could
if only be

torturing my mind with ideas
fantasies
when put on paper
turn to epitaphs
where another train of thought
has died

I have to coax
bring out of the shadows
the beauty she has
for me
that I may write enlightened
set free

they are selling sunshine
on these ***** streets
offering escape
at bus stops
beyond the ride home
with hoarding speak
dreams, new worlds
new life, new you
away from this ****** existence
we all perceive
step into
the advertiser's dream

I see
the impermanence of it all
the stuff we can't take with us
that we hoard
in second hand shops
car boot sales
charity shop windows
end of childhood
end of relationships
end of fashion
the end of lives
set out for a new generation
to claim ownership of
who will buy my memories
when I'm gone

bring them on
I can feel them in the wings
waiting
breath baiting me
with their memories
if I can take them one by one
I have a chance
but when they rush me
jostle and push me
then I fail
life becomes too much
and I have to reset myself

wine or blood?

either way, a window opens
and all I see is how the sheep
and the wolf share a common
enemy:
the shepherd.

blood it is then.