My bubble doesn’t trouble
me. It’s clear as smutty blue glass.
It keeps me cool, and I’m doubly
safe inside its gelatin grasp.
Out there is where dry misfits slip
by unaware. Whetly I watch
them, and most fittingly my lips
I press against its oily splotched
membrane. What they dare to
do or not isn’t troubling either.
I’ve got this bubble to
maintain, and the air’s not free here.
{lungs}
I can never tell with you
Meanings and words
Jumbled confused
Lie truth lie
Covering and uncovering
Strange and irrelevant
Every utterance that falls from your lip
Carefully penned in your mind
Meticulous and odd
Jumbled
Lie truth lie
Deceiving words
Words words words words
Too many of them
Swirling like smoke
The room is dark and hot with sweat. A girl
is standing near a boy who’s cursing fire,
his fingers groping as they slap and whirl
about the buttons. Although his eyes are tired,
he’s scared to blink. His hips sway heavily,
hypnotically, in time with flashing blue and red,
bursts of static white. The game is simple: kill every-
thing. The girl beside him turns away and says
Let’s go, scratching his neck slowly. He yells
God dammit, kicks the machine, and grabs his last
remaining coin. She leaves, the sound of mortar shells
exploding in her wake. Toward the door, she’ll go past
other boys like him: their bodies tilted, a gangly row
of jeans and clumsy hands, crying out Oh please, Oh no.
Today when I looked around,
There was no one who could be found,
In this atmosphere full of air,
I couldn't breathe,
Tears rolled on my cheeks,
Everything went blank,
I wanted to cry all I want,
My body felt frozen and couldn't move,
I lost somewhere in the echoes of past,
Away from the chaos of this world,
Looking at the evening sky coloured fire red,
Instead of all this violence in my head,
I chose to find peace in silence.
You imitated rain
Cascading down my body
Your words cascading down my mind
Your kiss cascading down my lips
Jams and jellies
Filled your words and my hollow heart
As you try to own my body
The end of the end
The end of your life
The end of the world
The end of its strife
The end of all war
The end of the fight
The end of all black
The end of all white
The end of emotion
The end of all time
It's the end of your world
And the beginning of mine
The silence grew and grew so loud
I fell so far I touched the clouds
My eyes wide shut I jumped so high
I touched the ground and missed the sky
It is not clear
what if anything
we will leave behind
for whom, what for, how long-
it is not clear
if we will have the right.
Instead, even the rain
stops falling for a while
and filters through the cracks
drops do drip and drip, brown
into a marmalade jar,
bricks rotting away
(since the distant past)
Everybody is out and about
and you are cocooned, indoors
shrouded by sirens, and echoes.
They wear the motley coat of jesters:
like fools they tell the truth.
Of a feather, the birds do fight together
they hold on to your finger
like a terrified fiancé.
El palenque in Ixmiquilpan sees them clash
green and red under the belt:
Men and women, make your bets,
a way of life as bloodsport
in a star-crossed box drawn with lime.
They wear the motley coat of jesters:
what luck will they reveal?
We should have known it well
it thrives. indeed, on being human
our touching each other; hands on face
speak out loud, droplets & breath
hold on to the handrail
move down the carriage,
use all available space
it’s proximity & closeness
shaking hands, kissing once or twice,
(don’t stand so/don’t stand so close to me)
the embrace, the popping in,
the cup of tea, the walk together,
y’alright mate,
saying cheers, give me five,
would you like a top-up,
anytime, here for you.
The Milky Way is moving faster than before–
It is likely to clash with other galaxies.
In two billion years.
Someone will have to go through that.
Sleepless agony, to lie and claw at
Air, to gasp for dreams, to drift through flickering
Lives of might-have-beens, which pry and draw at
Odds with shifting currents where the sickening
Bends return you, stepping in that stream
And stepping in that stream again, again,
Against your will and stepping in that stream
Until a thousand pointless lives of men
(Which are your own if you will only own
Them so) pass by you, and the night is thick
With living and reliving, and you, prone
Beneath the weight of thoughts and waiting, sick
For sleep, can only flail and burn and ache,
Reaching, dreaming, praying, breathing, “Wake.”