Oxymoron

I will be in just after twelve.
Today is not easy
Something is heavy
On me
And waiting
To leave
Need to be alone
Or healing cannot go through
Swallowed by
Someone unhealthy

Won’t be set free
Until
I help them
It’s happened before
It happens today

my mending heart reigns

over
Small shoes
On big feet
Playing pretend
soul drained through the sink
The ill one
In a suit
Gel
And fresh morning stains

You sick
Sick
Fuck
Of course
I will help
I’m just drained
Til after twelve

one of those

two’s days

where I look after both

and all is in reverse

yet into place

upgrades

integration

upgrades

i get triggered by laughter

I don’t recall

how it tastes

just after twelve

could find

my place

maybe

nought

maybe twice

a ‘yes’

 

 

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untitled unedited hospital particle

this is not tragic
it’s full of life
on the inside

domestic
splendour
in the
pre-elections
NHS

room service
luxurious soup
5 teas a day
as many drugs
as wished for
come dine with me
Bukowski and Steinbeck
a bell for any of my needs

I couldn’t cry
for I am privileged
to breathe
and be assisted
by 4
gorgeous girls
each time
I pee

THE PHOTO STORE

tiny seahorses
azure sky
one
with the horizon
thy end
is beyond

your death and smile
are easily
one
and the same
your photo is
seamless
your frame
of a macho

reflecting on emotion
and passion
sunk in
your muscle

your squinty eyes
Carry your princess
across the store
in between
your memories
and records

she gasps frequently
deeply fascinated
and comes to terms
with the end of her search

mid-ocean
the final embrace
is the first true touch
and her echo
your new skin

the depths of the sea
Adore you two
and welcome you
with a flush