The Black Dog

Along the road of contrary
Paving slabs move under me
Marks of words left
Scattered etching
From minds with little room for stretching

Acid bath
Or intravenous

Repress to impress the hive

Boil oil on the silver wear
Wishing for death’s delight

The black dog is coming
He has taken your scent tonight
Do you run for your life
Or turn to defend it?

Either is pleasing
At least for a while
But time will run out
Either way in the mire

Both are succeeding
From both points of view
I’ll be something first
Before being subdued

I fear

In conical
Rhythmic precision
Each vibration
Pierced and split in

Two, from one
The sound becomes
Stero’ed pain
In mono,
Responding hate

Drumming from within
I fear
The liquid sits atop the ear
The pulse entwined
With that of mine
Corrupts the view from either side

Disrupter of things ignored
Rebellion of senses
Revolting discorded scores

Underneath my calming breath
There lies another in my chest
Claws connect from stolen seconds
Serrated songs
From quivered essence

Half a heart and half a mind

Loathing and sporadic lies
The glue to which contention binds
In half a heart
And half a mind
Splintered verse and muddied rhymes
A mace of laced opiate flavour
Berated sips of guzzled data
Hard met terms
And hard pressed acres
Hear past the fog
The forest’s aching
The roots will swell
The depth has inverted sound
The echo remains at least
Shifting so disconcertingly


Echos Made

Attention please
I’m buying time
Would you sell to me
For some of mine
My bellicose
Deranging eyes
Strip the leaves
From healthy vines

Echos made
To vibrate like
A dot in space
Breath in haste
To bitter tasting
A sucker for
What fears me daily

Conscious controlment
The paperwork skewed
The life of the filing
Has a life of its own

In burrowed offensives
The masochist’s home
In calm clear objective
The sadist responds
The firm self-reflection
Yourself that you hate
A portal of versions
That swirl between changelings in phase

Mithering particles
Dust into dust
Sweeping arrangements from god or just luck
Equate to missed fortune
Of life and of flesh
Rend head from the gas lamp
And let smoke light the way

Fatigue and Fasting

Reflection bounces
From all corners of the room
Heart rate pounding
Long after thoughts have been exhumed
Fatigue and fasting
The flesh must be as I am too
Withered yet bloated
From all the things I can’t undo

Let me explain
With a failing display
The grins thin
And pinned in place
The thoughts lead to a fresh decay

The pride is free
Yet still disappointed
The body is weak
But the rage builds a fortress
With heart and with teeth
The ascent is assaulted
The rolling back down becomes one with onset



As in unable to levy

My mind is adrift as always

I mean with the utmost sincerity
I try with all my might
But I never grew a taste for life

I bathe in the cold
The prickling fickle
Erasing my soul
By each dream and each vision

The weight is unbearable
I scribe without lie
The air leaves me breathless

My stained shallow life

With thorns in my eyes
I doubt I’d be more bitter
With morn breathing light
I wish I hadn’t had risen

The pride
Still alive
Needing to die
But it can’t
And it won’t
I continue to try

Stories are boring
When read more than once
Imagine the feeling you were never picked up

My fault they will say
But my shoulders tell different tales
To wallow here rotting
In bars of perdition


A Curious Version

Usurping assertions
I can’t help but care
The second thought’s mirthful
I wished it was air

The point to develop
Has become to defend this breath
Boxed myself off again
Whilst rotten teeth greet grinning sense

What a curious version
I feel I’ve become
The feelings have lessened
While phrases tease flames with a muted sob

On wards and upwards
Towards what exactly?
Too much
And nothing
I bellow abruptly

I’m tired of the  non sense
Passed from person to person
The year of the searing
Won’t alter its vintage

New growth into fury
How dare they contain
Within the thought bubble
The serfs rebute pain

But see that is impossible
Cruel and with drooling
The human has danced
Pushed all edges of movement

Nothing would live
If it didn’t stand a chance at first
The drive to be
As the drive should be

Instinct is chastised enjoyment
Thank small minds for swallowing time