Owe

Throughout my life
The main fear among many
Was that I
Would lose control
And that my brain
Would be too far gone
To even recognize this
That fear still exists
As does my life
Yet this admission
Out loud
Only becomes a flaw
Vinegar for exploits
A wound ripe for picking
By those who want me
To bank up goodwill
To cash in
With gratitude
When all of this
Becomes routine enough
To survive me
And my fear

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Shrink wrap choke

Who is selling what today?
Footsteps that trample shoemakers
Claim to be late for doomsday clock resets
Kept in total vacuum, under glass jars

The bulletproof transparency
Upon which I project The Strongman
In fear for my life
Seeing you live yours in blissful aplomb

Self regenerating figures
A new vessel for fortification of fragility
Sprocket rot under regurgitated acidified air
Time stretched mortality for the undying at faustian discounts

Marble tributes untouched by beneficiaries
Footstep trample inherited shoeboxes
I think it is time to open a truce
For a lease to a bridge that you will build

Masticating razors

Fill in the margins of intentions
With bilirubinous sunsets
That look awe-inspiring from distances
But the closer you get
Barbs materialize within your being
The more you move
The more you prove everybody’s point
The one that you don’t “get” apparently
So yet, you rush to struggle to explain
While all else look at the reddening sky

Malignant inoculum

Tired of repeating
The same variations on a theme
A horse made fluid
The same narrow eyepiece
Focusing on a piece of cardboard
Demanding recognition
For immaculate mediocrity
On uncertain terms
Poking organ deep, gently
As an experiment
And then looking upward
For a response
From stolid forms assumed tangible
To the question
“Why wasn’t I invited?”

Hyperbolic apogee

I can see but I cannot reach
The shelter which will save me from myself
Inside which I will be who I want myself to be
Before dissolving into an unattainable version again
Which travels, stretching itself unto itself
In deep space, through wormholes
Until there is enough distance
To make that rendition of myself
Noise to the hubble lens
Safely remote
For me to justify
Never getting around to it

As I recall

You remember when
We used to talk about
Similarities between beer froth
and bioreactor contamination
And now this reminds me
of that reminder

You remember when
We used to talk about
A reference to a reference
and ways in which things connect
And now I forget
what this is reminds me of

I remember when
I used to talk about
Other things with other people
and they were not formless gusts of rushing blood
And now I remember
flickering fingers trying to catch vapour
 

Cyst brewed concoction

A writhing lizard’s tail
Dancing to the tune
Of melodies made
By instruments used
To sever it
A rhythm which I just imagine
While someone else
Strings it together

The sound of the apple bite
Overlaid on the ovoid panflute signature
A character saying the word “issue”
Stressing the S into an aristocratic snake’s hiss
On a glistening green countryside matte painting
But standing on top rather than before it
As if only the players have switched
But the posture remains constant

Cello strings and hand saw
Roadrunner CEO of Acme
A throne with each peg
Deep in slit necks
Of bodies offered comfort unbeknownst
Rocks worn smooth with lymph
Watch your step
Might end up being heir of the throne

Sickly sweet smelling acid screwdriver
The medium of poison rain to paint upon
With dense millimeters of supercooled pigments
Longing for contact of a cold simmer
The hisses will be stored and repurposed
For the strung up throat lips mouthing notes
So that even when the scene is canvassed by inquisitors
We can laugh at them for falling for it