The green heart; a sickened muscle,
burned putrid from a passive mind,
because the owner thinks they could be nicer,
when deeper in thought; they’re knowingly unkind.
Halloween on the East Coast of Nowhere
In the descending fog, someone’s getting lost. Late night tales are telling, Hell-o-ween, I said! How’s my spelling?
It’s the trick and no treat, that slow knock on the door, from no-one. Those masked, silent at your gate, come on now kids, pack it in! It’s getting late!
Do they celebrate death and worms? Tell me what you heard, what you saw? Now tell me again, ok, prove it to me, I want the gory details, do you see!
Because, everybody in the house might scream! And something in the house might go arrrrgh! One by one in the house they will go!?! Hello? Anyone left?
We love the scare; we love the violence, for it’s a full moon tonight, how nice – (silence).
Untitled Morning
I awake from sensitive sleep. I’m out of tune to the bed-sheet; like magnet
against a magnet, not yet fully formed to be part of this new day.
My right hand is a cutout, a hole; in shape of a hand on the edge of
substance.
I attempt to grab for my duvet, but my hand sinks through it; as if softer.
Then, like warm sands engulfing cold, ancestral rock, my hand slowly returns to
me, as I watch it closely re-generate; appreciation of owner-ship is fulfilled,
and it proceeds to move by my own accord; to turn off the irritating alarm!
Realism Stains My Window
Every morning, I see a more vivid scene of what’s exactly outside my
window. Somehow projected, it stains itself seamlessly onto the glass,
precisely before I pull the cord; to open my bedroom blinds. The artist is unknown, an
expert in realism, it’s nice, but I really wish they’d move on.
Sometimes, in the quiet, I can actually listen, intensly, to the subtle sounds of melting. Whatever it is, it thaws my mind completely.
Packet of Crisps
One pink packet of crisps for sale; unwanted birthday present, acceptable condition (only one crisp missing). Replacement crisps are readily available. Only serious offers welcome. Call or email me, you know who I am.
Yesterday, I started running on the spot, and since then that’s as far as ive got!
Walking With You
Walking with you
I hadn’t noticed the stones in my shoes
That the weather was abysmally rude
Throwing down all it had left
And so it was only then
That I noticed
I was soaked right through
And in some pain
Only then
When we went our separate ways
Shutting my front door
My hand remained poised
Until a heavy sigh
Sent me out into the rain once again
Uncontrollable Scene
For a while, we were individuals, instrumental even, only for something to send us into an unforgettable crescendo; then our heat-beats fused and we flew, we actually flew over ourselves, circling, voyeurs looking down upon our uncontrollable laughter, not one of us wanting to land … ever again.
The Water’s Edge
As I walked down to the water’s edge I knelt and plunged my right hand in,
increasing the rivers density, I watched my hand dance until I thought the river may
run dry, that my hand may never return to me.
I was wrong, my hand soon returned and it hurt like hell.
Then the river dissipated, cruelly, as I was now struggling to comprehend
dying among the scorching sand-dunes.
I Eat Let.ers 