...miss Andrew.  L14:  Will didn't?



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLXV)


Ya, moonlight at my feet whileas in pale
Excuse strings whine oer how I slumber thence?
The violin half shrieking, thet eye hence
Just stares down through my window to detail
My auld duvet as if on purpose, frail
White on the side I allus choose, a sense
Of what? 'non waiting in sheer silence, whence
Note how, and switch the radio off to scale.
I'm hungry now tis midnight--is that poor?
Twa sips of coffee, cold and stale ist too?--
Twelve hours 'go when twas fresh---and who cares fer
All that by now?  Not me.  Let Shakespeare do
Up lines none read cuz oh! we love as twere
His plays.  We don't, at that.  But ah, who knew?

13Apr17c

Kick me?  Kiss me.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLIII)


As greyish twilight's pink clouds on the pale
East haunt lo, the first note of dawn, blue thence
Mair ghostly oh!  I think "how calm tis hence--"
Like ninety-mile winds had been here, the frail
Peace breathless nor but waiting to avail.
And where the golden shafts draw fir trees' dense
Forms on dead houses' silence, know that sense
Is odd, cuz our electric'ty ne'er went stale.
Oh Andrew!  My heart's on the West coast, poor
Though just friends augurs, where th'uprooted crew
Of ancient trees and battered houses that your
Eyes know too keenly mar the waking view.
And your heart grieves to note all, whiles mine fer
Just having you okay, gives thanks oer you.

08Apr17a

I think it was pop....yes, the Hinoi Team, among others.  [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i3VCVHzTAY]



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLI)  

Rain.  Streetlights hemmed by ghostly mists' detail
Watch cars line up to scatter in a sense
Upon their ways, and it is late, for hence
We do not listen to beat music's scale
Of "happy" thet I'd smile for ere, the pale
Eye of these sent'nels blacker night'd fringe thence
Our silent what? as he talks of defense
In sheer forgetting, like I knew'd avail.
None knew quite why my cellphone's covrage poor,
And I suppose in retrospect, laughed to
Themselves for how I'd sit there so demure
Without my ride, the libry's bench wet too,
Me wrestling with that slim device sans cure.
I oiled my boots for sloshing puddles' crew.

03Apr17a

Whatever I eat I have no hunger
Just gut pain
Dilated and constricted all over
Taking and it just keeps going
I keep smoking
High or low
Can't get it out
I can't get it out
It's starving me out
I am in pain!
And the dialogues just keep
Scrolls of them rolling
Noises from the bathroom
No one's home
Distant triggers from real surroundings
Bringers back to life
The orchestra
Eyes prune in sockets
Can't close 'em
What do I need
To be so ******* awake for anyway?
Water want nothing
I am rabid

When I say I want
To **** myself, please do not
Take it so lightly

-E (c) 2017

Want to pretend like I'm having some sort of Revelation. But I still feel alone, I'm still holding back my anger, and my urge to curl my hands into fists, my urge to leave behind everyone and leave myself royally *******. I want to destroy myself entirely.

**** myself, get money. ****** out of my mind. Following a passionless dim ******* color. Unfulfilled to the point of ******* myself

Dearly departed,
Pray for me
In life I still need to excrete
Not only faeces but thoughts
Just like food in my mouth
I chew possible sounds
Until they are… reproduced
I think
What I thought was art
Is now a bit bitter on my tongue
The saliva must be tainted
With odours I’ve inhaled
Because this ******* I taste
Is too flavoursome
I know this isn’t appealing
But neither is the finished product
Unwrap what you can
Of what we toss down to you
And swallow what you think is sweetest
You know it will all be… sour
I think
What I thought was lasting flavour
Turned out to be flesh
And even as I write this
I feel the unpicked hair in my teeth
So that when I create
I am secretly painting in words
From the inside out
I am closer to you in this way
But in that way-
Not so much.

Dearly departed,
Pray for us
In life we must run to you
But in living we must wait
Amongst the rotting peels
We left in our backpacks
For too long
We’ve learned to speak
About the smell
But in doing so our breaths
Stink up the air
And our legs are getting stiff
Sitting cross legged and festering thoughts
Bubbling images we wanted
To forget
God, this is a witch’s ***
But she forgets to stir it on hot days
And we decay
Faster than you do, I swear
The curses don’t become me
I know, the curses
Must be me and them.

Dearly, Departed,
Pray, and still listening
I’m sorry about the foulness of everything.