I wish I caught chickenpox two months and two weeks ago.
Who would have imagined the painful discomfort,
to have a direct correlation with remodelling my rationality.
Even after a speedy recovery and two weeks later, the scars
on my otherwise genetically-blessed-clear-face, and all over
my rather well shaped body symbolises a deep story.
Life is not worth wasting on those who don't care enough.
As insomnia struck night after night, mixing thoughts with
nightmares and episodes of Vampire Diaries excessively
watched through out the day on a laptop balanced on my
torso as I laid on my sick bed, I had plenty of time to think.
I thought about how Mr. X only contacts me when he
needs comfort, solace, assurance, care, all on his terms.
Mr. Y, only to gloat how he just had *** or if he needed
an ego boost, and he stopped texting all together long ago.
Mr. Z, who I thought was going too well to be true bailed
after our first date got cancelled due to me catching the pox.
All in all at every stage in my life for the past decade,
I have wasted my time on a Mr. Wrong and it's pathetic.
Apart from having a date on Valantine's day, making out,
endless string of inspiration to write shallow poetry,
I have gained nothing but heart break and sad memories.
The one time my mother would quote Beyonce to say,
they all turned out to be the best thing I never had.

I thought it was time for a remodelling,
Another story to tell, pretty
darling.

So I took the ringmaster's whip,
You see? Durable. It'll last us
this night.

The next night, oh we needed to
mix it up. I took the the gypsy's
advise.

Our future was bleak. Make the
most of it. You see? This is
Better. Much better.

Fortune teller said it was a
"matter of time." ****. We
best get a move on.

  I thought you looked good
hanging from the trapeze.
Maybe too far.

the geocentric remodelling of the human psyche:
two eyes in the sky
apparently a bad omen is seeing the moon
at noon: although that's perfectly so in winter:

a geocentric levelling of what once was...
i checked and as far as i remember
Richard Dawkins stated that he
was confirmed:
i wasn't too sure whether Confirmation was
solely a catholic rite of passage
but apparently the Church of England
does confirmations...

luckily for me i'm not a "hypocrite" or rather
a lackey for some intellectual cause
like atheism
but unlike the collective atheism of communist
states: this pathetic individualistic
scribble doodle-dah-d'oh...

i was born yesterday
i'm a pagan
i adorn myself in night and pareidolia
i employ dreams to rip through the fabric
of reality:
and there are dreams where you dream
of words
and that's called obfiscation
i'll check the meaning of obfiscation now...
ah U: obfuscation...
               that's when you dream of words
because images are so clear
and pattern solving
like reading colours at the traffic lights
and when you are permitted to move...

from an early age i read about the Gnostic heresies
in my catholic school of Canon Palmer
Seven Kings, Essex...
i'm surprised they had a book on Gnostic heresy
so publically available
but like any horcrux or volatile materials
like magnesium or sodium
saturated in moth and webs and obscurity
just waiting there like a phantom with daggers
for teeth: this miasma of sweet death toll
this tonic for the intellect:
and then match gnosticism with paganism
and ask the monotheistic religions
who is willing to convert me
then again: don't bother...
i can't belong to the most exclusive club
within monotheism
i can't be Jewish i don't come from Hebrew
stock
i can't be circumcised i don't even know
why they bothered to baptise me
and give me a Hebrew first name
my actual name is of Germanic stock:
my second name is probably my truer name...
now if i were confirmed i would actually
choose a third name for myself...
i think i would have chosen Gideon,
or Asmodeus... something along those lines...
or maybe some other...
but i didn't ask to be baptised...
just like the marriage of Poland and Lithuania...
and why paganism in Europe was still
alive somehow having missed Lithuania
by a stretch of
while the Muslim Turks were sacking the delight
of wisdom in Constantinople
the failed third crusade and the disgruntled Germans
because Barbarossa died in the most comic
way that the pickle barbarossajuice finally
reached Jerusalem
decided: maybe we need a crusade up north
and how did the Russians become so orthodox
and self-assured
maybe it's true what they say:
Christianity is like Communism...
              they always have that idealistic argument
of: but it wasn't true Christianity...
it wasn't true Communism...
        the **** was i baptised for? did i ask to be baptised?
clearly no: since in my youth i already
decided to not be confirmed...
   technically i can't take marriage in church:
it's this stretch of imagination and clinging to authority
oh jeez... pride? i can't be guilty of pride...
i can be guilty of wrath:
i am short-tempered: unbelievably so...
but that's also what makes me tender:
a short temper tenderness
i use anger to exhaust myself and bring fruition of
that exhausted peace... but that's enough about moi...

two eyes in the geocentric model...
i see myself walking on the ego of the moon...
with the sun as god
                     and i return my gaze back to earth
and see the id...
and there is no superego to mention
until i make my descent back
from my delegation as the psychenaut...
weird: the Russians called them cosmonauts...
the Americans astronauts...
cosmos and the Astra
ex Astrum...                  astrology astronomy
cosmology and a jumble hiccup of etymological
fetishes to arrive at the suffix -naut
from nought?
                    -naut disrupts the intelligence of AI...
hyphens are not recognised in artificial thinking
via the immediacy of AI interruption
of algorigthm... which is now very recurrent:
prior to algorithms were not equipped
with AI capabilities...
but since then: algorithms have been imbued
with AI...
                      and i did ask Monsieur Chez Chat
about the difference between AI and
algorithm... so we're on good course...
              ah: ναύτης - sailor...
                              then i must be a... soul...
navigator...
a...

                   ψυχήπλοηγός

psychiploigos...            depending on the context
of meaning: with at least two letters having
the same sounds
the meanings must differ:
notably why the eta (η) is exchanged for the iota (ι)
and there being not only
the omicron (o) and omega (ω)
but also the upsilon (υ) - oh ooh ugh...
that's being very blunt...
the ingenius recommendation of bilingualism
and not actually learning a third language
to the working faculty but
out of interest...                           psy-ché
(but not Ché like Guava Ger...
   ***** type of e off é...
                   so no psu...         psy-like-sigh
and the psigh...         hmm very much a riddle
but of sounds... the dyslexic bother:
yes... we spell knight night nigh and ought
for thought although V and F
     are there too)
                            psy-long-i-that's-y
   and why i don't know but such is the concentration
of meaning:
i have this long poem i left with Edie
in its infancy i think i'll get back to it at some
point...

might ask a ****** about the relationship
of i to the długie "i" that's a jot (j)
then might ask and wonder:
why do the Polacks have... a Greek style
name for a letter that's Y namely IGREK?
unlike all the other letters:
the Poles have a name for a letter...
like the Greeks used to have a name for aLPHA
and bETA and oMEGA
and uPSILON
             the Poles didn't adopt... ooh wait!
it's like the Easter Egg phenomenon
of a computer game...      perhaps we didn't
adopt the Greek into Cyrillic cheap-oh so *******
wong that alphabet looks
so ******* hacked... ugh...
so the Poles paid tribute in Latin to the Greeks
and gave one letter a Greek accent of influence:
Y is named IGREK...
                           spell that otherwise phonetically
in English... otherwise...
only in these dark perverted times in England
can something remotely thrilling emerge
on a page from this obscurity on the outskirts
of Loon-Don.

lots of lost souls
traumatised beings
polluted and infected
unstable and rejected

making the decision to remain comfortably numb
or deciding to seek change
they step into your office,
and finally step out of their pain

on the verge of breaking…
a warm, lilac, reassuring presence rests on their skeleton
natural, comfortable, strong and feminine
delicately unpicking their man-made wounds

and eventually assisting us to blossom, love and live
this wise woman is in motion
so much depth and guidance to give
your light is so bright, consisting of security and devotion

we’re all on our journeys out of the fog
knowing that it’s going to be spectacular
simplifying and remodelling our internal monologue
with your help, we will eventually regain our power

you value the whispers of each symptomatic soul
welcoming every single dynamic individual
some are so mild & timid
but some are so rock ‘n’ roll

thank you for taking the time
thank you for making me shine
i now know its ok to not ‘be fine’
i am so grateful for your ability to re-align

so thank you, for one last time

x