Why do you write?
Because I feel pure Love - pouring from my fingertips;
Etching the lines and swirling an architecture of my irritatingly indecisive, incandescent, hellish mind.
It bides my time, binds by belligerent cries, and confides and purges it into prose.
I suppose, it mustn’t make much sense to some.
Do I stop? Well, I don’t wish to stay shtum.
Swashes, swatches, colours, scratches - it all tickles the itch;
Where most often I feel, in my brain, there’s a glitch.
Beg away.
Beg beg away.
Bag it up
Then ride away.
You never did return,
To reiterate those words you easily let slip.
So tally ho, tug at your grip
Watch the red switch in me, snap, flip
Flicker
Flop
Off, then on, off then on on on...
Fickle.
Just a Gemini moon phasing through
The has-beens that have gone
Let go, I’m not coming through.
Breast stroke and ride
The radio waves,
Tele-pathetic thinking
Your presence still sticking, staying,
I wait til it fades
- For a while.
’Til you squirm
Cause I won’t nourish your whining.
Rotten apples, fine cider;
Well, you don’t console me with wine-dining!
Broken shackles
The birds set free
I know you want ‘me’,
But want is part of the greed.
A filler, a lip-biter thriller,
A chase,
A shoot out, -
We already took a bullet
Not for each other…
But kiss me, pout!
All I can take from you
Is I will never love another.
So please dear, disappear,
My long lost loitering lover.
I inhale again
Taking another clean incision cut
From my mini mortal timeline.
Limiting my lifetime,
To a piechart of another slithering percentage lost.
At what cost?
To keep the economy clogging on?
Plodding on until ALL the petrols gone?
I mean I can’t fucking breathe out here.
But I guess you don’t care about me, son.
Blink
And every single species will be gone.
Mark my sulphur stung and wheezy words.
Until every chance we had, has gone.