Glowing 
I am tired,
tired of looking,
tired of seeing everything 
through these eyes,
these battered and
bruised pair of 
translucent balls 

I was born with
the second sight,
the power to separate
truth
from otherwise

I am tired,
tired of pretending,
tired of being this,
through this and that
a cloud unmattered;
I find only the solemn
void of darkness

I was born with
a second sight,
a power to divide
truth 
through force &
purifying

I am tired now,
tired of the everything,
the thing thing &
seeing clouds,
above as here below
I gather my eyes –
glowing 

The bread stuffed into the toaster, then the spread
of butter on cooling… ,
Swivels of honey, imported but sweet as

…

the crunch; the crunch

I uncork the blue bottle

the crunch; the crunch

My love for Bombay Sapphire

as I

duck

& swallow

sweet

Ravens inbound: I watch with horror as they pick your bones clean. I suck on the leftover marrow, ignorant and in bliss. Somewhere deep inside, or far beyond the reality before me, the pickings are ripe for the taking, for a feast of plenty; dreamers unbound knocking on doors unanswered.



Ravens inbound: you watch in horror as they pick your bones clean, then me sucking you dry makes it all converge, the feast of one no longer a fantasy, no longer a note in a paper left by the predecessors. Somewhere deep inside, the picking is ripe for the taking, for a feast of one — knocking.



Ravens inbound: we smelt as we merge under the sky of dreams, under the stars and their protection we linger, we wrap the paper in circles of infinity, begging for their ultimate forgiveness. Somewhere deep inside the answers lie, foreshadowing the world before us. Unforgiven I revert to tossing off, and contemplation.