One way or another.
I had decided that I wanted to fight you.

It doesn’t belong to me this creature

In its prison, it stares, but the eyes don’t even mark my surface.

Where is he even going? We rub layers, liars, I see, with eyes half open, lives half shut. Shiver now in his empty stare.

Glancing, back and fourth, trying to come back, to see something. But some things lead to nowhere. I know.

Nothing to offer, nothing to say.

the surface layer is broken and pop cherry eyes open, closing closing pinch by pinch. Poke by poke to turn me off. Look by look to bore my bones. Senseless, we are senseless. Word by word by word by word. Blah by blah by blah by blah. Then Close my eyes and he can’t be. In me. And nowhere to be seen! Only crawling lashes shutter over the skin. Eyes that move slow-ly, and mow through me. The lashings of his look mean nothing new.

And then, an awkward tickle to make me scream

a touch so sucky, that I can’t be.

Turn over and cry.

Don’t touch me.

This time I tell him

'As long as you see everything, you'll never see a thing...'

I'm loosing my favourite game

JUST BEFORE I LEFT LONDON

Away

Orange bodycon is cheap in untitled store. She says; slinkiness is overrated when you can dress like a superhero. Is it that since the multistorena opened its little sister got busier too? Maybe the away of towering glass walls, creates a glorified home in these arches. Out of the old centre into 'the City' and its starting to become clear, that just one inch above usual height suddenly brings the crowds to a much more manoeuvrable eye level. Survival; in platforms. Tile to tile, sheen to gleam, performing a straighter, astuter walk. But better off in ice-skates.

I'm sorry! Excuuuuse me. Its just, I function better in a fringe! Growing away with that block square, of hair, is my ability to contain. The aesthetic of my face now replaced by something more mindless. So overwhelming everything has become, so incompressible; neon letters swim unfriendly through theatre glass walls. Pencil skirts prance around a makeup counter, with every beige I have ever seen. Prance around paletted, each liquid to powder pot-head, like a mini desert, laid down and just able to peer out through roundpot eyes. Scoop it up and plaster it on then! Theres only one true match, and I'm worth it.

Edible. The paper cup looks as tasty as the coffee. The tangerine ribbon looks as tasty as the wrap. Coupled with the guy is the doll. I sip. The texture of milk is soothing. Arabica. And flat feet shuffle. And mops of hair waddle through un-accepting bodices.

Home alone and the strings fall. Humidity is cosy but unsettling. Home, where hunger is boring, and naps make for fuzzy cozy heads. Windows show the outside, rather than the in.

Mine mind is not clear when I travel away, back into the city of your stone cold room. Away. I choke like a suckling survival babe, in a concrete ship, with a water body that makes me sick.

But suck hard enough to melt the walls.

Then lay embered, at-least warm, in his dosey tan limbs.

Made up, in my powder pot tomb, And curled up like a kitty, away, I make for the deepest sleep I ever knew.

NB

NUMB DRUMB

After all its just a face

squares and hoops

stick a square on your chest
around your neck
hang a square like a necklace
symmetrical shape hung square

Dans la bibliothèque

Now I'm here in spearmint blue
Pointless pale chopsticks
who wants to eat anyway?
You left the taint of blue in my new wooly hat
Though,
it suits my face, this colour

'Cascade the dark curls'
rest on flowing crimson gown

thats your girl

goofy, heartwarming smile
test you like a sun rise
over fully blossomed hills

thats your girl

frowning neurotic tick
beat you like
her embroidered emblem, hair clip

I know you didn't ask her over for tea

in the middle of the night?

So while she sitting
bemusing
in her literary chair
I'll be there
with you
playing
the verago of her novella

I, I,
jetsam me
stinkingly
try-ing
to overthrow
fido fido!
waif-ing
she-wafting
I touching
she jangle-ing
I humming
she singing!

I laying dark in a fine jersey knit

She dream voluptuously on a poofy poofy
night slip.

'Cascade the dark curls'
rest on feathered pillow

thats your girl
blue-stocking

Then I'll be your Chanel


Wine lipped and camel
straw haired and flannel


'Cascade the dark curls'

Nylon

First we kiss
Then you will lock the door by day.

Look at you
in your electric blues
standing boldly
waiting to coo
me off
into the greywash outdoors

I don't like your goodbyes
their florescense
uneases
befriends

electrically forthright
to soldier me out

and where are your love eyes...?
my soft face retains
in bug lit
and liquorice blues
I'm watching for clues

everything
anything
I'm holding there
and waundering?
temporarily
for you

And there with your bug eyes
so subtley I snooze
pear appetite of water
flowing pale, I lose
the juice
and fall on my lap!
to absorb another second
than mop up another wreckage

of pared down
dry light
of a hop skipped
and fair night
with me and electric blues

I don't know if it is acceptable

to wear such florescent colours

Set, set that crown on the ground

Shipment confirmed. unfinished.

Soldiers and mermaids
Soldiers and mermaids

I think I'd be different if God hadn't violated me!

GET ME A w a y

A w a y

from the Seamans church

If I'll be all knowing
that the men are marrying the mermaids
shot into the sea
NOT ME NOT ME
the mermaids getting the men, and loosing their toes...
watered down woes of shell touching brutes/

but did you ever see a boatman take off his boots?

And so with bandages on my knees
I'll be carrying the boatmens wives dainty feet

I'll learn their secret ways by instinct and watching,

........................
the Seaman, who'll always give me time to comb my hair

then march me in, to the chapel of my molestation
suited and booted

flanked

 to take on a temporary role

bare bossomed blood bank

make her walk the plank, make her walk the plank!

'If the walls were too thin

you would break in...'
Pornographic Soldier

Cornered

If I'll be seen

in a corner

slowing my pulse

discoiling your skin

in my hand

to let it leave

let it be

and alien beings
taking from me!

jet haired pigeons
always taking from me!

If I'll be seen

walking out

I'll be leaving you to eat

while,
I'll be wired outside the shop of your fancy

the walls that hang the stuffs

that lure you in-- 

fine strings of the deli
hang-ing

presenting to you,

an array of
tings

unwrapping themselves to give you wings,

disloyal lodgings of other craving beings

and silvering...

go
find your other sightings!
dig with a pick

And if I'll be seen,

in a corner,

slowing pulse,

discoiling skin,

then you'll have unwrapped

your tinny tin tins -

come back to me cornered!

with entrance fees in

to a cave all stoned up,

to your booted feral whims

...................

The Phase of my life

what you see in me is 'one of the same'
but for me this is simply a phase.

Do not venture too far

Truffle

a frop of auburn head

rest on the side of a thigh

that was my biggest delight