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first draft
Is it only in my incompetent mind that thoughts seem to vanish
Jump ship like a fleet of sperm donors desperate for war,
self-mutilation, and destruction of any kind
Greeted to an abyss-like-wasteland by a shadow of a man
Dressed in brown robes and spiders webs
Carrying chains and begging for ears
Telling dreams you vaguely remember
As if the reincarnation of any measurable unit of time
As if above the droll realisation of everything
Slinking in and out of part fallen television aerials
Is the out-dated concept of our own personalities
Clinging to their prosperous contradictions
And tangled grasp of any attentions
Worthy of the complexity involved in contemplating a punch line
The predatory vantage point of a ghostly-amputated silhouette
The state of mind, which once caught, breaks down and cries
Tears of consciousness
Tears of realisation
Tears of anxiety, depression, and abandonment
Pointless tears
Tears where the poignancy of being rises and sets
Everyday behind a landscape shrouded in descriptions
Is ignoring the conspirators and the not-knowing-enoughs
Those whom crush life to that of a condition
Failing to understand the significance of a floating dandelion seed
It’s to them I feel real sympathetic apologies
A totalitarian state as anything but a work of fiction
A cynical satire indirectly talking through some sort of think-box
A hand full of supposedly fat cats with a pre-dated secret agenda -
The intension of holding humanity to ransom in return for all your mothers breast milk and the sick desire to fuck your children
Resided to the inadvertent repercussions of a nomads actions
However white or humble their objectives
Give me ignorance over suspicion
And on my anniversary gift me the moon as opposed to the sun
Auburn, palm sized skeletons, fallen victim to autumn
Pegged to the branches of trees throughout the winter months
An artists vision representing their inability to change
Still believing in fate and perfect timing
A heavenly intervention cosmically designed to grow the earth
The fate of leafs, the soils mulch
The forgotten tongue of an incomprehensible language
The artists vision of a life unravelled
Give me the numbness of wind as opposed to reality
Strength against the toxic silhouettes
Slinking in and out of buildings and cut-troughs
Past the pepper pot burka and the preaching priest conference
The warm, freshly laid, tar sticking to the lips of god’s creations
A vinegary war on the taste buds of consciousness
A reminder of danger, hidden in the colour of flags
Don’t fight for me, fear of me, or bow to ignoble whims,
Seek shelter in my name, civilisation for murder and rape
Bribing instinct to play the role of a scapegoat
Bleeding guilt dry
I’ll forever remain wary of stories the next vagabond carrying water tells
Resurrecting our mindfulness and our virtue of self
The feel of new-born skin buried in your chin and resting on your chest
Stopping the slinking silhouettes and their wild dogs
Comparing their cowardice to that of the sun in the evening
Running from the revealing light of the moon
Imposing unspoiled shadows over the night-time landscape
The perfect and individual shape of a snowflake
The kiss of honey
The gesture of a cigarette
The nature of a compliment
an awkward conversation about death
Counting the raindrops on the outside of a windowpane,
Whistling the songs played at your granddads funeral:
The symphony of life - the theory of everything
The missing limbs of the ghostly silhouettes
Forming the membrane shell encasing my brain
Draped like royal robes edged with gold leafs
Carrying thoughtful humbleness and the contradiction of knowing,
Dreams you vaguely remember
Dreams you’ve had before
Opaque dreams masquerading as nothingness
Obstructing the way the world really is
Or at least ought to be
A trick of the mind
or a self-doubting somewhat warranted paranoia
They’ll have you assemble and march on the beat of natures drum
Watching your blood splay off skins in the name of reprisal
Hunting the ghastly silhouettes you know not to be true
Stumbling around in the dark
Falling to your knees
Muddying the revered garments your fought so hard retrieve
Muddying your name
Our name
Crawling alone
Drifting in the dark
Drifting in the dark
Where thoughts seem to vanish and consciousness leaves you.
Where the droll realisation of everything is beauty personified
A sterile wasteland where thoughts are white
Dying in whiteness as opposed to darkness
