3rd April, 2019

I’m deteriorating.
Melting.
Coagulating.

Faster than the bacteria on that cheese sandwich he made me
The last before leaving

For a swim then.
Forever,
after.

My parts are fusing into the other.
Passing on their responsibilities.

Faster than Nanna’s Custard-Jelly.
The one she made on her birthday.

Her last supper.
Our last,
anything ever.

A few neurons left crackling.
Set aflame by words
slowly dripping an illusion of euphoria

Slower than that last doze I jacked up
to make this poem live
to make this end - end.  

reminder

Flowers always smell good. 

Even in pictures. 

Flowers look pretty,
Even in death. 

my book, their knife

Stop cutting stories
stop slicing words
stop chopping letters
out of my everyday.
My life cries - very often sometimes
Tears trickle down
my whole
like yours down your cheek
when you peel & chop onions,
the dozen of them,
for the gravy train
on your merry Christmas.  

Stamp

A ball of golden yellow
hung like a lamp on the wall of the sky.
Freshly unwrapped-cardboard, bubble wrap, thermocol beans.
I sit glaring, stamping yellow dots at every blink.

Even the night has some sun in it now. 

Tomorrow

Two crows were perched up on a hearse.
Squawking.
Discussing the fate of their oldest friend.
Who would soon join them.
On his own grave - perched.
Squawking. 

Bob

My head bobbing
Run the Jewels talks Blockbuster to me
He sits on the curve of the street
Looks in
Stares
Bobs head to match mine

Rickshaw moves
His gaze not moving
Run the Jewels now talks Blockbuster to him
My bob matches his

that hotel garden

I was too stoned to photograph 10 lamps hanging by window panes.
Above which were window panes to houses for a night-a day.