it was something you said


a wandering bone
askew in my throat, my lungs,
it cut right through the head
I count
one two three
worms of the dead
at your collar with claws
a headless queen with silver spine
cracked at the neck

I carry you
a confusion of words
you said
I grow fat on delusion
our phrases have been found
hanging limp in the meat shack
and figures outside
are licking its cracks
slippery sentences like blood in the mouth
involuntary tastes
involuntary sounds



metallic sun threads
through a muted wall
I know
the painful elevations
rising high
in the inky stretch of water
eyelids forced shut like locks
a hazy film screen for hollow clockfaces
too blind to see there’s no forever
just a giant catfish,
its shapeless body
vibrating in the black mud of my head

spiders of mine


tear pages,
flakes of skindeep writing

and blame the inhibitions,
the child-eyed spiders with clownish smiles
spinning webs in your mind
until your imagination is just a reflection of history
grinning thought-catchers
creators of illusions
hail the homeland
the family
and all those loving couples
who carve holes in each other’s backs

the lines are all neat,
but her pores are blood filled and black
apart from the pack, a lack
of flies in her mouth
so let the shouts ring loud in the streets
girls are weak for attention
they quiver and they cry
besides, it’s all a lie
a big fat laugh
we eat spiders off the wall
and we grow tall and grow proud
well fed on the screams and thrusts of jokers
and their simple visions

can you smell the fire in her eyes?

no title

London behind a wall of glass, dusty and absent, while I walk my thoughts away like some persistent hangover. boring conversations invade me, dislocate me. so infused with tired phrases and perceptions, I go home and performs monotonous tasks to the noise of other people’s arguments. I open books and I close them hard.