posted on January 10, 2015 at 9:22 pm


soft grey day

sleepy sleepy man i sleep all day man

it says its raining i whisper to a black pillowcase

i am still alive somewhere my friends

the dreams pour out of me in my pleasant room

(where am i?)

my heart has slowed down to a distant drum

i hear the blood pound lazily in my ears

as it sloshes through the machine that holds my soul in

i am enamoured of the haze settled in the green back garden

i sit up in bed it is every morning like this ever

i sit up in bed with my grey eyes open

i am alone it is silent

i dont remember my name or why i am here

i am out of context

it is lovely not to remember it all

how it all went so wrong and so wrong

wagging tongues and fingers gone

i awoke to a new eden of amnesia

i was adam in a bed in a pleasant room

trying to name all my dreams

i have been sleeping for year it seems

so much had transpired but it was all quickly evaporating

my heart broken cursive script upon the pages of dust

mirrored the looming morning glow like a hovering cotton wool bandage

the blood was the red rays of an alien sun

yes i sat up in bed and i looked at the trees

decked with leaves and lanterns

last nights revels now muted in morning

yes i sat in bed and i forget what i was saying

i looked in a mirror someone once put there

i sit looking at a me they have thrown together somewhere

some delicate thought has vanished on my tongues tip

the insurgent day has lost its way and everything has halted

a plane freezes in the sky

the birds have all gone so quiet as if in anticipation


i have accelerated through

bang bang bang the frames come down

behind the brain somewhere i sit and move faster

freedom in the greying day

freedom in the soft rainy night

i sit in near silence typing in the little apt in which i live

type type type

the stuff comes out of nowhere

thunder mooted clad in big old boom boom boom

lightning flash down and strike these southern seas

i drink lychee juice and smoke the fucking herb

as sleep approaches in the humid gloom

i am living in this weird future now

i need sleep in this deep warm night

out there people are getting into some real bad scenes

not this little boy tucked up listening to the rain

hoping for more and more rain

willing it urging it causing it bringing it

in the darkness i am no one

warm and safe and anonymous within the soft night

somewhere out there

the ambulances rush through the cloudy streets

the policemen with sirens blazing

the dealers and wheelers whirl into action

in my tidy pleasant room

my shirts hanging up

asleep to it all

i am dead to that world




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