Silence. Solvent. Substituted;
subsidised
then marginalised
instituted and muted.
And, often
persecuted.

Rationanalised
by abstraction:
every minuscule
interaction dissected.
All that is left is convoluted,
misconstrued
and rejected.

The lucid bewildered.
The disillusioned bejeweled:
rooted in their state of mind.

Effortlessly self-proclaiming
restraining
and refraining
purging the imagination:
the waning of maligned mankind.

And all of his
illuminated limitations.

Incubus.
The male demon inside my head
The astral constellation
satellites off the shores of Pluto
a cold crushed diamond
hurtling in hyperspace
sparkling in rotation
silently spoken
the unspoken,
the uttered,
the muttered and the said.

Gas formations spiral
the nebula of new world creations
happening beneath the cobalt sky
the unanswered questions
am I even here
and if so,
why?

Gravity.
Descends me
push and pulls me
the ground holds me
reaching for the stars
just beyond my grasp

Space.
That vacuum
******* the corners of imagination
and the lost voices of childhood
running free in the long grass
of colourful dreams.

In the blur I see you
moving slightly amid plucked strings
and vintage wallpaper
the garden of candles
flickering in the near light.

The incubus of devilment
and stolen words
to yet reveal themselves
the forgotten fragrance
of yesterday's radiance
never forgotten
just a short solar burst away
from Proxima Centauri.

I'll get there,
eventually.

I sip my beer, the relief of foam
the last remnant of civilisation
like a porcupine shawl
alcohol is the spine slice
beneath the skin
welcoming me in.

Electric lights shining bright
eels wriggling in a pool of light
like Frankenstein reborn
the monster within
the feathers of a passing dove give flight.

Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus
the breathlessness of sentiments
wrapped in tin foil
the coil of perfection at gas mark 7.

Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit
electric toaster bubble and squeak
and fidgety machete at the ready
the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!'
the institute transmutes its underplay
I opt to not execute on this occasion
instead soak up the libation of liberation.

Safe in the knowledge;
tomorrow is another day.

Even on the brink of freedom
when the shackles have been removed
and bodies drenched in aromatic wine
you seek vengeance in the name of duty.

I can only hope for you my dear friend
that when such time arrives
you'll embrace the wisdom of creation
rather than the destruction
bestowed in the futility
that never loved you.

There is no boast in easy victory
or laughter in seeing the tears
tumble from the heavens.
Set aside wounded pride
instead envision the shroud
of misanthropic deviance
mystified by the devices of illusion.

I just want to curl up and cry curl up and die
Everything hurts and I want it all to end
Not fair not fair not fair
What’s wrong
Don’t know don’t ask
Like you care
Don’t pretend
Don’t text don’t call don’t talk
Breathe in and out
Breathe too fast
Can’t breathe
Can’t stop
Tears fall
Don’t know don’t ask
Help me help me help me
But no help comes.