one day the paint becomes too heavy for the wall
and as it falls
i snarl at the wooden frame window,
going beyond
the being drunk for days on end,
curled flakes green paint
like that of a psychiatric unit
even smelled of it,
my body grey
not creased by laughter,
ceiling fan
juddering illusion blades
imagined tugging away flesh
from my bioluminescent bones,
bareback
once ridden by the sun
penetrated by raw illumination,
walls began to shift
i am to be released
as a lost savage
in a wet city
Tag Archives: madness
Jess Franco – Nightmares Come at Night (1970)
did the sky close
trees doused in solar gasoline
flaring cinematic glow
radiant crawling into eyes
and eventually the heart,
it is beyond the four day rain
so no use writing a haiku,
what will you say to moments
missed out by heaven
and only mortal seen,
air as with light has cooled
leaves and pine needles
penetrate the body,
someone will hunt a deer
stripping carcass on the ground
flies on blood crust,
crows clack and dance on branches
high,
in summer your sea washed hair
fell in curls,
now damp hung onto shoulders
as you move off the porch,
eyes with a carnivore hollering
look at those trees
axe slips in hand
thudding only in the mind
blood trail on boards
not yet dry,
those beings who creak at night
have cheated you into thinking
that cutting laughter out of a
throat was better seen than smelled
footfalls soft blue dress swish
night will crawl back into the moon
and phase out its glow,
taking with it memories
no longer imprinted
fragile in the innocence of
aftermath began to feel
that summer had gone
like an abrupt lover
and everything would be felt
with a frost
of reality
Lars von Trier -Nymphomaniac (teaser)
99% fractured glass
letterman taught liberal arts
bukowski master of the open portal
that caught flies and dirty blondes ,
there where no country estates
or manicured ladies in crinolene,
too much hubbub
and relentless spiral of those
who live in such an octopus town,
that solar flares light the street
and guide those whose frail stories
stumble over awkward words
and metaphor,
master of bliss
with shimmering teeth
and boiling stench caught on
warmer breeze
vigilant for kisses and erotic
composure,
severed happiness from tears
and kept each separate,
behind the doors of our octopus
town the withered languish
robbed of enchanted loins
and their tears now crystallized
as rings for deaths fingers,
clotted souls clogged
as choked diaphragms coughed and
hacked sluices of phlegm,
the doors opened for a moment each day
quick enough for a shadow to be
flung out,
madness was a bomb on every street corner,
diffused as she appeared,
her deceit to entice
and enchant,
womb of silken flotsam
carried nothing hopeful,
yet her heart once orphaned
brought a rising sun
that closed the portal
to bukowski’s dismay
letterman fell aside victim
to iron skies and sanities rent,
heal deep she called
finding it broken
and lambs put together the pieces
with a well chewed glue
Flicker Bone
taste the cracks of madness
that wait as you feel
blind of thought beneath the sheets,
transit of day
passed over eyes,
highways and country stores
direction decided by suggestion,
words once whispered
in a bar over warm late beer,
all intentions
seduction and sacrifice
after lunch
folding lawnchairs on grass,
she placed him in a bubble
that enclosed in a vacuum,
there sanity on it’s broad threads
became detached,
lifting the conscious away,
he had never felt this feeling as
of now,
escaping quickly
tires churning gravel,
expectant trees let sunlight through,
as by night getting home,
on the other side of doors
is the better place to be
Vicarious Hats
indulge me
if you will
before pissing off
to somewhere else,
i tread lightly
so that you see me
yet not feel me,
flickering as a bulb
on bare socket
over a desk
littered in curled
yellowed pages,
some written upon in
inks that dispel moods,
tranquil lakes between
stacks of leatherbound journals
accented by the trails my
life has taken,
do i require
that you linger
like a rumor soured,
yes i do
for i have
placed upon these pages words
of varying strategy,
drawing you into the cavernous
mind that engulfs
all who enter,
my world is so unlike yours
my monsters do not lurk
beneath slatted wooden bed
but morph into that bed
and enfold me and mattress
in wooden embrace of illusion,
but if you enter and still leave
take away a portion
scoop into words, sentence and
phrase with that shovel like
perception,
smile, urge or rant
at my discourse,
you are not required to like
or linger yet i will get you,
under my hats
worn over many faces
you will see me many times
and i will be different
velvetmedia 