Tag Archives: dreams

06:15

Sickening clarity through cut-glass
Badly prescribed spectacular
Lead crystal displays sit with
Singing wet-finger-rims
This pentacostal morning

Daylight, not often enemy
But, sometimes
We leave behind a better view
Dust to dust, my stomach turns
With the barking of the birds


Night Visitors. Or, Death of a Famous International Playboy

Dreams are really starting to piss me off. It isn’t fair for my subconscious to vomit all sorts of memories behind my eyes, its vicious little attempts to revert me into somebody I stopped being only serve to make it harder to get out of bed, to get up and face the grey skies and pissing rain and open-plan. A quick, sad one today.

Emptying pockets on ring-marked tables

Produced a saddening pile

Of ticket stubs from seventy km

North of the Murder Mile.

 

Of folded Polaroid squares

Holding heavy, suspended fragrance

Of thighs in hotel rooms abroad

And slick, forbidden cadence.

 

The passport’s seen far better days

Dieu Et Mon Droit worn thin.

Sandblasted, deadened in Rajasthan,

Waxed smooth, strapped firmly in.

 

Emptying pockets with tobacco-stained hands,

Like waking from teasing memory.

Not asked for this arousal,

And never you, instead of me.