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Tightly drawn smiles Loosely fitted Scrubbing the drain, circling it even Settling dust Yearning for movement A force of nature An action plan, a family man Laying down foundations For impersonations Renting down the river, Winding up a creek With two fists Opening my favourite window And forgetting to close it I'm letting the debris in And if bin lorries could tell stories They'd sleep in an unmade bed every night Wednesday morning, mother's warning The man walks his dog Through oppressive heats and violent winds Why can't you do the same? Stop seeking answers And seek a home Stay there, stay away The pegging to clothesline pipeline Against brick walls My balls bounce and fall A pinch and a tuck never hurt much But where do I lay my head at night? How many mistakes Should I contemplate Were the force of nature Blowing out my last birthday candle With a giggle A tightly drawn wiggle A master of mimicry But I know you, I see you Your silk cocoon Never strung for permanence Your writhing In step-by-step conniving will End when you wake To find yourself decaying Stuffed in your rotten beanpod Full of somebody else's shit You never open the window, you see
Jun 23, 2025

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I buried- in silence -in the back yard -a thing in the night -deer trodding behind the tree line airplane light rolling down the cheek of the dome- it had to be done alone no matter how many times you asked what was growing here I couldn’t speak its name- and you couldn’t hold the reigns of a certainty that is not yours to keep -here is my mind, the living, the executor, the backdoor frightened child staring off wandering for the holder -here is the order of the sphinx, the cataloged diagnosis of the ordinary wheel -here is the lackadaisical assistances that you ordered: “bury the hatchet that dug the hole. take the sword of your desires and throw it at the heap. there is a lump forming that must be seared. the stitches to be unraveled are trying to leach into the skin from which they are formed. you must open the earth or be dissolved yourself”
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My mind is made of bubbles Synapses pop here and there Take me in different directions Through alleyways and down steep stairs My emotions come and go like the mornings receding tide Shift like piss swift dribbling down drainage pipes and play-place slides My words are drool upon your feet My eyes are hung like frozen coals Or snot that freezes and puddles In jacket arms, on brand new clothes The mirror is a needle but these ropes are all the same I built my house on a rock in sands so that I can be displaced by strange rogue waves Sometimes screaming doesn’t help Today I can’t talk at all Self harm gets only a couple chuckles when friends come round to call My loves tears taste like cinnamon I can’t swallow without spitting up Ones once loved don’t talk to me because my medicine makes me less fun I cry every other night over folks I chose to hang around My room is set on fire every time I say something and don’t like how it sounds Good grief, bang the drum all day
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