isles...

tip toe, but very slow, through puddles of smiles
crashing though isles, falling into phoneboxes.

my laces seem tied up, but don't feel like it
loose threads getting in the way.

sunshine accuses me of being lazy.
i argue.

rain dropping its soft shutters down,
asking for quiet, asking for thunder.

beige...

my pores long for more than suntans
unrelenting attention to full stops, period.
my last score of privacy allowed only silence,
before my lens of attention required beige.

it suits my cinnamon sins to like lavender lips,
but i don't,
i prefer acidic concoctions of this - bliss.
didn't ever want to think like this.

the moving line...

multitudes searching for equilibrium
like watching, slowly, a moving line of waves,
crashing down on a canvas of stone.
pupils fixed, and following,
the rhythm of shadows dancing in my heart,
not the cliffs.

ouch...

i dangle my cistern of damage, closely
crimson eyes
letting things pry
eye; annoyingly; stares
different dirty feathers,

mud, muddy, mess

listening to insanity, and inanity
prickly kiss incinerates sight
ouch

wanderdust...

laces dancing round my boots; can't be tied

ever dangling loose ends

dust laden legs stumble forward
easier than stopping


why wander? why wonder?
why not?
weary eyes, weary skies
choking on smoke


which direction suits me today
up, down, left, right,
doesn't really matter
trapesing necessary



destination has never been the point
just the walk
it's all about getting there,
not getting there...

why...

i think of you,

i think of you,

i think of you,

why!?

realavance...

Let me free, be, see, try to allow… us,

Want to fly, to try to buy… my freedom…

This is no ridiculous happiness.. 

This is hell.. My shell preventing me from saying hello..

So.. When will this be relevant.. In..

Sin is just an old old man’s thoughts of trying…

Is you.. Is me.. Is she.. Relate you fuck! Damn!

Ha ha.. What the fuck eva.. 

Lies.. I tries… troubadours and swords..

Will you ever  tree fuck a door?

Doubt it my friend… stamp it and send…

First class.. First arse,, lick..

Pretend to taste the glue, but you..

Lick again… want to do it again…

It;s a roundabout tricksy blend of coffee…

How annoying… where’s the sugar?