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On paths

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On paths we cross,
threads connecting
in place 

 

Our alignments tangle
in a web
of time 

 

Flashes trapped
as water drops 
on glass

 

When day closes,
our vapour trails
I trace

 

Those moments in place,
roll like ripples 
on a lake

 

Those places in time,
held like snow globes 
in my mind

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abstractplacetimetime traveltravel

Not the killing type (Part I)

I try not to question my humanity

and let me be damned,

but I’m not the killing type.

Only sometimes

I want to put out someone’s eyes

press them in or pluck them out

like the clear plastic baubles from a lifeless doll.

 

Like a force majeure,

rip the bricks from walls

watching architecture crumble and tumble

the relics of a past age fall,

flutter like shredded b...

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abstractdestructionimaginationsurrealviscera

Hurt

Abstract anxiety eats at razor thinned shins,

Anguish engulfs lost and last,

Previous pretenses portray pessimistic pain,

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abstractchangelifelostlovesurreal

Free Write - Little Souls

Wishing humble resolution, reversed on both ends of a lucid looking glass. Hoping hopelessness, Remembering remnants, miniscule moments. What could have been different my innocents, pieces, parts, carbon copies of the softened edges of my sanctified soul. Forever asking for your eternal forgiveness. Unable to forget the forgetable fear, between your eyes.... And mine. The moment, minute, of ...

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where there are fish you will often find bicycles (in six days god did what?)

An exquisite (ish) corpse experiment conducted over the period of a week, earlier this year, writing unedited what popped into my head admittedly with prior knowledge of the line preceding  but never letting that force me down a certain narrative route

where there are fish you will often find bicycles

(in six days god did what?)

 

sunDAY 1

save the shamen monkey for a cleaner time

...

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abstractexperimentexquisite corpse

Curioser and Curioser

as the dew dropped tulip two-steps over my tongue

so a pubic slaughter of moonbeams and drag queens

leaves so little space in-between the longing

hung, low slung, below the eaves of this curious abode

 

where pregnant questions await the gaunt relief

of a crucified thief who has chosen his flavour

so sure the house has fallen on the queen of the east

love thy nei...

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abstractagingmemorysexuality

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