and then the churches
not a climbing peel
not the telling of bells
but an absense felt
a spirit skin hammering out the pressure
the clung tongues of worry
Babel Tolls

Fellowing
then following
and opposing this
A deprevision blow to the senses
a ballooning calm
A nature of electricity makes itself stage, tone
and is source of beacon
A strobe of invitation
past the the mid mark of night

There are six ways to die on my table top

There are four ways to get lost in my cupboard

There are seven men drowning in my bottom drawer

There’s a coma above the ceiling fan

and an incinerator under my covers


Under the bed is a mouse trap

In the sink is a death trap

In the gap between the walls

is the most appalling noise

and my radio produces

only the frantic breaths of fitness breeders


The tortured hide under my pillow

(though they belong in my ears)

The glass in the window is made

of the slowest distorting tears

(I never produced them)


The carpet covers my blood

My clothes are covered in sod

The wallpaper hides my dreams

and my dreams have spilled at the seams

I collect masks that are the person I hid

Where do I sit ?

The door is a lid

The room is too warm

Enclosed

An expanding balloon

#1

I’m no good at merrymaking
I do it alone
I do it dark
And I go at it with rabid excess
I am fellow to it
Until morning
And I make the morning hurt
A mark is embed


#2

Amoungst great company
I am dog unwanted
In the comapany of one
I am villain bird
I am influence
I hit a drinking partner in the weak knees of weak truths
And things go madly south
But tonite I am alone
As I ought
And not sought out


#3

Astray from the fireside
Into the woods
In the territory
Where I fear to thread the pathways
I shall recover my work
In the graven woodland
I shall face myself down
And bed darkness
Where I am truely wed


#4

Thriving and well hausted
I strain and clamp upon the energy
I face my enemy
My power
I bide from his readings
I make ****** pleasings
Form verbal greeting
And extend a hand
For this
The first of many a meeting


#5

Upon this connection
This Faustian reflection
I make the primal
The woe in me
And the red wash of ravenous pages
My activity
My moulded tool
My rage
My howl against creativity

-

[Note : i am flushed with heartbeats,
fast panic breaths
and thought.
i have overwhelming stream of ideas]



...it’s ridden through in our flooded veins

it’s furnishing our museums

  it’s marred out on parchment

     it’s mated together in privacy


      [Note : i tighten my eyes closed for relief]


     forbidden

      persecuted

     tried and executed

    preserved in wetland peat

   it can be called out

without the feed of the moon

without the woe of the ocean


 [Note : i clamp my hands over my ears]


senses

census

pleasured

genetically vetted

it can be rutted out

  falling **** through the generations

    the speed of the molecule

   or flitted across our grid electrically

    microscope

     magnet

     telescope

      prism

      morse distressed

     music

    pressed

   repressed

  and invested against

through historical text

it’s collected in your visage

and yawned back at you

  off of your morning mirror

   it’s in your needings

    your trolling of prayers and personalities

     and the breaking of your vocal jockery

    
     [Note : i dry gag and go silent]


     information is energy

    not erased

  but converted...

   ...and then nothingness

    an unwearable yelling void

     expanding pressure-less

      precipice

       rapid

     the immense feeling

    of feeling nothing

   the code/no-code

  the necessary ill behind the facade

of the purpose currency


[Note : my thoughts slow,
i note my breath
and my heart]

-

‘you’re the only hell that I’m gonna know’

i pledge this with spears/

i greet me

goodbye of you

and approach my new interaction

with life-path,

a heaven in preproduction...

but a few steps on the road

i’ve a bone to discover...

                                                   ...i recover and cultivate

                                                   a little hellscape

                                                   that travelled within me all this time/

                                                   in some form or another

                                                   it seems i owe you

                                                   an apology/

                                                   i also harbour an imp and

                                                   without the dominance of your
                              
                             ­                      raging villain

                                                   my brute loosened from it's domesticity

                                                  /that said

                                                   you still remain

                                                   my significant

                                                   past tense

                                                   abuser

in this lasting thick sop of heat
people protect their dearest habitually
and who knows how long that shall last ?/

all acts are weighed upon/
the neighbourhood is rough/
the swelter raises all the gritty flavours
level with all our senses/

some spend time on the rooftops
but it’s not avoidable there/

tasks are monument :
the hateful
hurting
malnourished bodies
are there own enemy
a struggle to perform basic life/

the fever beat breeds the pollution
and the pollution is solvent
in the population/

it’s a barbed experience
working to perspire/

we’re cast where we began :
occupied animals
and when the day sinks
then begin the dog nights/

people are game for a fight/

of all this
i take my leave/

i seek to study/
i want to shut down/
i need decay/

i’ve stalked from this blazing environment/
i’ve gotten far underground/
removed a grate
from our buildings basement/
followed rungs to a cool drainage tunnel/
not far along that I discovered a hunch in the cities material
edged through a crack/
ever downwards by touch................/

i’ve found a damp corner
within a ruin
beneath the ground
within another city
built over once
and then again by the current inhabited one/

this is location/

from the summers heat
and from the social wheeling/

Quick to go fungal
I adjust my body temperature
and mottle the skin of my stowed carrier/
I regard my blood beats
and concentrate
marking them slower and slower/
I retract to operate on minimal features/
I become a dominance of my thought stream
and narrow it to almost nothing/

I’m a short stop from from coma or organic breakdown
I am now dedicated ,
thoroughly ,
to the one study

my untackled thoughts
quake miniature dramatics ;
cramming for the light
having fits for my attention

through each
I am irresponsibly born
and then hastily killed...
it is a wasteful process

from now on
I shall label them
as they surface
I shall call them Petty Mort
both a joke at their expense
and a simple dismissal

with this manner
I shall practice trimming them
from my chosen daily effort

[Actual Content Withheld]

i am a lie
when i am with you

a faceting deceit

i fidget to achieve vital moments apart from you
when i perform bursts ;

acts of
what it could be to be me

like
little dishonesties

flourishes of free time

i’d indulge in fierce meals out
drinks
loud music with offensive lyrics

and then
back in time to greet you

remeet your arguments
and self central needless deeds
and the viperous structural shakedowns
of your violent
flailing personality

will either of us
stalk free of this numb feast of ugly energy ?

when i go to bed at night
i take to the edge
furthest from you
and kip like a dud

my creative force is in holding

i suffer a duration
whilst we struggle
to maintain
the whole world
according to the way you persist

according to your law

you pulled into this world
slug-like
muscled through passage
passed
reforming your credible state
in front of the health team
and in view of myself
taking your cast
you cried out
about the new conditions
gull to life
gull toward a name
and gull toward embrace-ment
in this fight
in this criers feeding ground
accounted be
a token of force
a token of soul
and a token for ward
in this great mimicry

the emergency of life
the spot lit fight
vigorous
apparent
the thrashing of the harvest
in the threshing of our night cares
sew what you mourn
in the blot of the moon

it’s all a swallow
one gross reactive swallow

your time perception
is gourded
your feelers
are fluence and torted

everything’s fun today
the sun spills the sun today
all fur is on end
all eyes are refreshed
fleshing mirrors
absurding the observed
playing with mother’s scissors
dog sugar dog sugar
attend to the worlds genitals
re-open The Eden for business
and theatre

tied to your family
through exchanges of damage
how can you manage life
with the tether of the holidays ?

back in the vicinity
back in the fond
the fold of abusement
held warm
by secretious exchange

imbibe

care of mottled re-riggings
of tried over memories
re-rung in company
to be loudly agreed upon
again and again and again...

back with family
fellow obscenities
bellows

The body dies :
A crumpling
not an implosion
as I turn inward
on my own corpse
In a desperate gasp
for sustenance and revival
The result ? :
A flourish!...
but, then, a puff
deflation
The Surround caves me
collects arrears upon my vehicle
I am to make no feast
the body is the process

Best off known
Make ‘art world’ of my damage
Prepare to go mammary

Prattle my way into important company
Display something intimidating
And put in my stake
My patchwork for paternity

This bedroom got boring
I hold in my breath til I’m pressured
just short of pain
and result :
The wall at the far end pushes back into the darkness
the bed raises on longer limbs
Now there is more territory
Inviting in a new metabolism
some organic animation

‘****** is Meat’;
The Victorious Say
as the Spoilings of War
are tilled over in a Latrine
Gore-Flowers shall overthrow
and the next Eden Project is fed :
a Beacon for The Lovers to uncover
....and disregard
    ungratfully fertile

I want to understand human purpose ;
The doubtless impaired devotions that deviate from
‘The Human Idea’
There’s something ‘recovered’ that persists in each life
yet
in each life
it is usually
quashed habitually
These purposes are mused from off of the makings of our lives
and
when applied
can become true
unearthed work
a driven propulsion
a ‘*******’ or offering to the ‘Creator Idea’
a truth of an individual view
or
at least
some sort of an approximation.

Dry crying
with your mistless tongue
gacking and clatting
(a toy tapping out the winding
in its clockwork mockery)
Dry crying your devotions
and gloved family
into nothing more than vented memory
Your pores pelt vapor
You treaten thinner
stern thing
true to your wood
Dry to make your soldier state
Link rank with your troop mate
Crop your mind foreign of frills
Pay attention with your brothers in drill

I awake ; decanted
I inhabit an orphan creature now
did my parents just die ?
or is this just some feeling
brought over from
my brother world of slumber
I sit up
scratch itches
and tend to my waking head

You're a floated Liver of sins, my friend
When you disrobe in-front of the mirror-unmarred
You find yourself bloated and ill hued
The excess soil in your cuss
has stoppered
What you’ve amassed in free wanting
has driven you into a clot
Your consumption has padded you to reach a total
and all you can do is amount upon the scale of mammal judgement
and feast upon your grave
Look to your pillow and it’s embroideries !
Can you make out the words ?
‘A pleasured out beast of glut and ego
Unwealthy and devoid’

Are thieves ants ?
And are ants up on my pillow ?
Can't count all the trees
that villain up the wallpapers
Immurked
In silent non-light

A Percher weighs himself upon my chest
Fidgeting and hurting the spurring of my breath
I can't speak to he
Nor he to me
I've not made any friends here
I'm always the quiet one.

The tools of the drapes make-eye new fashion
I yawn in-breath the scenery
Til I'm replumbed a fear familiar
I've not taken note
And they'll be a cell toss in the sorrow light
And stern disused adults
With their 'on clockwork troubles'

I turn in this muffle scape
I'm feverless and struggling
In the ample warm bright shade
Capsized in an umbrella
Of an altered canopy nest
Lovingly bed laid
And to the falling
And fawn the ceiling
Well in for teething
Water floats the basin
Town in for weening
The coast of new morning
I gorm to life
Jump started and fit fused

You know you are wrong
when you bed me in our own litter
and The Feaster raises its head
to feed our relations with its attention
We persist
and you're having none of my boring objections
This bed has become a field
of mammal ply and spell craft
We sign out glyphs
in energies and positionings
In The Feasters eyes
we have meaning
we are positive
we glow for it
Feathers from air
we tap out
with a shared vocal hark

..in crash the mind ;
plan flown on
an excercise of oblivion
Criminal tide rising
to feel upon the doggy moon
When The Love has only known The Night Time
with little illumination
the revealed is a frightful thing ;
a Medicine and a Leviathan