Wednesday 18 July 2012

TIRED AND STUNTED ON COKE 2




i am almost a nothing
as
i
thunder
piss
on the garden stones/waltz thru hot wet fronds
stroke me like fingers/like welcome

i am
like the last man alive
finally
on
his
first day over the edge

the swings are tied up
for winter
in a frozen
 scene
like
a
movie/where the apocalypse is quiet and neat
and redemption lies
a few
easy tricks
away

inside
i
confuse the
lights/switches loud like breaking glass
and
they only
uselessly
light
the empty rooms
behind me
in odd shadows
shaped like
the beaks
of night monsters

in the spare room
i
remember
all other times here with
a clarity i only ever discover
in the ultimate late fried state;
the Nazi drawings on my feet in the overhung morning shower
and
the long limbo
afternoons
sick
and
sweating on the thin mattress
mortal with indecision/my
bag
already packed
waiting for whatever or nothing or the something everything
to
show
a
sign
in the dead moth dust

i
anally
line up
my stuff
on the
book shelf
of
Kermaz
King
Leonard
& Lee
putting all my keys and drugs and fags and wallet and everything
in
neat
symmetrical lines
and
pile
my loose change
in denomination order

before

i try to sleep thinking that feeling like
an almost nothing tired shell-boy
should bring slumber suddenly

but

obviously

it

doesn’t


No comments:

Post a Comment