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Mimi Bordeaux Aug 21
Spiked Mulled Wine
Sweat like a corpse in a (dawny dowdy dawny) copse a forest of flies fire flight of twi-light seeblack-blue
opalesque pearlescent

nacreous pancreas lining
wining dining ending up with
the light of jesu
hindu master tweaks his little bells (out of) their shells

coapting coaxing
sticking it to the masses
passers by dreary teary bleary

feeling alone with your ***** dog ‘galbador’-real name — allyl cyclohexyl glycolate

why do I always look so socially drawny mawby scrawby lordy
baggy galpy scaredy catty claggy faggy end of this drive
eyes filled with pus?

cuss the weather
tether me knees together
going mad

already bad and sad
dad went years before and after mum did
leaving is all they know how to do well
it’s s a gift from my parents to scarper when the kids get too rowdy loudly
maudlin goblin mouldin thoughts on
one left side of my brain open cranial sacral chakra larkerseratonin my dopamine receptors
say hello to chemical imbalance of my lead head said
dead just alive

kept going by a senior psychiatrist who took an interest in my case file
larger than life itself
between two good neurones bashing clanging together

growing like a manic bipolar  transistor with a psychotic disorder
between two good neurones bashing clanging together

abruptly adroitly soulfully
she let me in
goll golly goldy go

comatose come home poem dome my tome reads like an amateur souless epiphany

head of aching shaking making noises of doom moon soon will be half shaped circle of like
please bring my elixir
its own packet
what’s that racket downstairs towards the bottom
back to me
head of aching shaking making noises of doom moon soon will be half shaped circle of like
fife mife byfe lyte lyfe pyfe myfe
brittle bendy bandy bones blown down drown

no sound when you’re under the water
immersed submersed macerated saturated ******
scouser
louse in my hair won’t go away
Waheeda Nov 2020
Though I did not enjoy thy company
Still I can feel thy myfe affection
I am drifting amid life
Like the barren shell of the Moon
Life is colourless sans you
Is there any substitute who...?
O mom!thou art great and matchless
Mothera toddler's first institute
Mother
a paragon of love and sacrifice
People who lose you
Not alive but dead inside
Long live all flesh's mothers....

— The End —