moths drink tears of sleeping birds
wake up as they
shoot burning pianos
from the handbags of cats
nailed into the corners
burst on the walls
surround a sole soul
beat, leave, fail to be
scrape bleeding and see
what you achieve
sleeping never will free
deceptions which stung
from wells burning your lung
all sing in despair
yet your god
will not come
we try to be good yet we stumble and fall as the bullet light echoes fade into the hall
i had been lying bleeding in the gutters of saint tropez for almost seven hours when i regain consciousness as the morning dew from the fern above drips gently and builds a puddle in my sternum
where you were born
sheets keep waiting for you
antennas on roofs
sending sounds of baffoonsthe smiles all around you
all silky and stale
and your stomach still works
as your senses plain fail.vomit away as she pads your backhead
an angel of venom
keeping sheets til you’re dead
tune down piles of broken guitars make it sound like a bass as they wait for you to pull out those miracles they believe you hold just for them whilst you know there has never been such a thing.
the white concrete tube that protects from the burning dust and floods with comfort as i lay down to sleep where only my complice may find and wake me when the time comes to tackle the task.
sledging down narrow spanish alleys her hair curls around my senses when we crash into the light blue burroughsesque market where my love abandons me.
faint to the preaching voice of the bus driver turning me in head hits the frothy grey ground.
cornered by ones own modification, neurostatic cramps the view to the solution to a metallic tasting praline.
lone exotic pleads offering colourful dirty pop socks to watch the sunrise from a concrete matress flee staggering down the burning pine sheer.
cold piercing anthracite slates updrift her hair enmesh her arris forms.
glistening angels feeding venom to the lost at sharp deadly glacier shorelines.
