Effigies
misleading,

honouring
breached

consistencies.
—troubleing

Miserably
aware when

peace is in
the making of

leaving.

Throats, and
hearts,

young, and
wheezing,

baffled
by charcoal.

Notes hung
by

hooks upon
faces of

empty spaces,
safely,

neither dark
or light.

Borbles of
sparkling pro-

portions;
opaque when

turned off.

Can you
imagine?

Signals
flashing,
guiding

cold, heavy
traffic,

noisy,
and silent.

Peace fair,
earnest.

Attracted to
wicket,

aim true, but
truer have been
without shtick,

a need to
plead, cut up

by
strictures,

evaluated
banter.
—
Amazingly
Sage like, out-

rageous
plague spikes,

and a need
for fun.

Our land lord loves us and hates us all, and I can relate.
More so in terms of love, and then some in turn of hate.
There's no debate, I'm making all of this **** up. Forsaken demigods lighting fires beneath deaths wings, beneath were they sleep.
Counting sheep around the clock, sleeping with my face in my hands, tolerating the devil.
I'm on your time and your on mine, we are both oxymorons but we are less than that.
Our land lord won't fix anything, all they  want is to party.
All I dream of is partying but Ive chosen destiny.
I am no enemy to the state, but it makes me sad that I have to be.
Consider me a rapidly progressing rhapsody say it again simply for kicks.
A modern day black comedy, quirky, yet outrageously unfunny, half cocked imagination, yet it flows as if, and then a brick wall.
Painting on a wall that is congested with accredited banter purified by my own sombre light, dry heat, and flexible scampering.
There is a sheet, but projections derail, the cloth is frail, and the machine needs some other words.
A lot of people in need of
cough medicine.
Tell your GP you are fine.
God isn't happy all the time, yep he had to pop up some time.
—
Inconsiderate, and inconsiderably jerky, or a cool man in a messed up headspace. Pack a suitcase, he packed nuts.
Reaching for better necessities, disregarding counting stock when grocery shopping.
Freedom of love and hatred, kiss and tell.
The hell with all this cat ****, not ****** but getting close
The rest is up for the taking.

My journey round Herdsman
began by changing direction,

a statuesque black swan
displayed in its muddy riverbed.

Business types operating drones
in fenced fields,

I saw the freeway which I was
pushed-out into, re-entering to

find the freeway once more.
Another entry point up ahead,

welcoming me back with its
tunnel of shade,

then encouraged back into the
open.

Buildings surfacing upon trees,
presenting as industrial nests.

I saw what brightness the sky
had to offer.

Shoulder pain; scrolling feeds of
nothingness on androids, before sleep,

wasting lucky days off writing sloppy
poetry.

Perhaps I'm simply
concealing unfinished products?

Elbows folding in on
themselves, neck retreating into chest.

Anticipation of excitement.

Something new from suddenly worn out provocations with muscle all their own.

All I know is haste will leave my brain.
All I know is that I'm likely to forget things,

or search wrongly for ungodly, rudimental possessions.

I won’t forget, apart from everything
I must remember not to.

There’s a lake, not far
      That reminds me of you.
Keeps me from letting
      Your memory get carried away.
A place to remember you
      In a more natural light,
Where I imagine walking with you,
      Sat beneath a tree,
Eating biscuits.

A single body of water
      linking me to you,
Where we were last connected,
      Like wildlife.
The openness surrounding it
      Depicting freedom,
once carelessly shared.
      Its width, and depth showing
What we'll never be.
      
My longing measured
      By how itchy the grass is.
The fresh air
      Making me think of your
Thin hair.