time.

time with a friend. time

after rejection. time it takes

to smoke a cigarette and

look at the passers-by.

time before love. time of

love. time takes away.

time gives. time stretches

violently in involuntary

boredom. time crawls away

into her hole. time chased

away by a missing dachshund.

time of red. time of violet. time

of accepting the fundamental

mystery of divinity. time of

silence between thoughts.

time before you realise

it's not going to work out

well. time of passion. time

of misery. time of miserable

passion. time of meaty

sweet cherries. time stuck

between mirrors. time cropping

up between web-pages. time

leaping out of the window. time

before bed. time for a pencil. 

(inspired by time chapter in "Red Doc>" by Anne Carson)

why not a sphere.

this mortal flesh is such a bore

it eats, sleeps, shits

demands attention

wants care

why not a sphere

why this clumsy assemblage of pipes and boxes

full of sticky wetness

i'm hungry, i've overeaten

i can't sleep, i can't wake up

so much administrative hassle

for a container

hostile negotiations 

underwhelming compromises

just for a chance at dignified death

by the inspiration of your holy spirit.

words from the core of humanity

from the holy trinity

reverberating sending level 12 storm down my spine

and everything was beautiful

lines falling on my skin anointing me with pain and joy

the pure feeling of touch

that only the shared body could give

and everything was beautiful

jaywalking confidently through the corridors of our home

music pulsating through open windows

i take in a breath that carries histories in its blood 

and everything was beautiful

drizzle.

one of those days

where nothing stands out

life keeps going, things keeps happening

but on lower volume

less dogs in the park

no lovers leaning on the piers of spilling over thames

damp with perpetual drizzle i'm walking through leicester square

tip-toeing around barely visible puddles

no passion, no sorrow, no drama

a somber february evening in london

yearning.

desire weighing down the belly

warming me up

worming its way into the mind with fantasies

uncalled for

how much longer could the structure hold up? 

i am sieged

i am bothered

familiar ideas of what is right are on strict rations

give up or die starving

the grey inside surrounded with luscious tantalising abundance

why keep the gates closed?

how dangerous could it possibly be to let them inside?

a made up war

a made up castle

there is no surrender

no siege

no walls

you are already there

bound (1996)

nonfeeling.

crawling into nothingness

yearning for passion from the space of nonfeeling

fantasizing of violent rapture

in-between youtube videos

what am i

what am i doing

mounting pressure of inconsolable ambition in the face of inaction

treated with prolonged inaction

salvation truly lies in commitment

words words words.

words words words

so many words

inside and outside

clashing between themselves

fighting for a hold of the string

like children behind the school

for the place in the engine driver's seat

a trolley problem of ideas

which ones are you willing to sacrifice