posted on April 16, 2008 at 9:29 pm

persecutions complex
grey drizzle dawn mounts and muzzles bondi beach
some tourists resort
to anything
between my shoulders..that old ache
the years
holding it in
holding it back
i nuzzle sleep who recedes and recedes
half relieved to escape ultra vivid scenes on dreams screens
a non-believer
hammering at rats with my shoe
lost in a mansfield st wilderness of pain
a white fog of smack fizzles to black morning of fear
utterly alone in a cold and hurting house
no one comes
the minutes congeal into solid state time
each second is razor edged slicing me open
the cuts go deep into being
timecuts flay timebeing
no one knocks at my dooranymore
no one rings me but the bank asking for its moneyback
the goodtimes oh they seem so far behind
so longa go
all my lives living side by side
my scams gather round me
screaming at me
i can never outrun them
whining lies
the garden is cold and full of spiders
the empty cubby house with mouldy toys
those little birds flew the coop
rats in the roof scratch and scramble
me, im out of everything
cars drive by outside
sydney grinds into action
the world swirls by somehow out there but its unreachable
defeated on my feet
knocked out loaded
absorbing hit after hit
throw down the towel over and over
entropic necrotic
less serotonin than a stone
the hours are ropes i bounce off
while my invisible opponent
slugs me under the skin
punchdrunk and hobbling
a footprint of my former selves
i submit to any yoke
the ceiling is a void
it calls my dead soul
which cannot leave that screaming body
its all mixed up
i enter some semi-bardo state
some formless realm
within my dream
and i am only pain
pains spirit incorporeal
embedded in some unspeakable torment
a wraith twisting and untwisting
unwanted anywhere
trying to leave but there is nowhere else
time has not stopped
it never was
no time
no being
no right or wrong
no lyneham high
no bass guitar
no floral shirts
no gigs in melbourne
no smokes no drinks no girls
no friends no enemies
no records to make
no appointments to cancel
no dealers to ring
no money to pay
no prospects no future
what do you have then?
just memories
all writhing with malice
all distorted by time
all faded in the fog
all withered in the draconian winter

24 Responses to “frazzle”

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