the face indistinct composite says nothing but bluffs, a closed bud a violet the garden hung w starlight no-one sees, the trees undercut, shades between, the plane that glides the voided sky at Pisces.
call it digression, a slip in standards. my dna is 99% gorilla
2% banana, but we’re not similar.
the death of nations. heads rolling in the last flush of sickness. my bed, slant of sky, that narrow band wide ½ a moon & cloud, am i dying for sure. the sins of mankind’s mine 2 as much as gut ache is & indigestion is & fists that clutch the emptiness. i have learnt to smile, show teeth, twirl; lean against your post, the mind indolent. come here. if i kill, it’s clean like in the shower.
i’m not serious & you know & that makes me sad. [note to self: what does Sad look like; what does it feel like; what does it taste?] rip it up, regret it later; find sellotape & where to peel it back from. dig but don’t come, rub w ringed fingers, the cheap metal makes you swell, & don’t come, & writhe the silk & don’t come & tear the skin off my face & don’t come. [what does Frustration look like. what does it feel like? happy, happy love that can’t be quenched, boughs that won’t shed]