Monday, 2 November 2009

1. Come On Die Young

Spasmodic slumber

twitch flinch and pillow-fist

noose of blanket of night

soothed and ssshhhhhhhh’d

(can’t breathe can’t settle can’t stop

can’t break can’t pause can’t quiet can’t identify

this maggot-bait of sensation wants to be bitten

wants to drag me somewhere bad ether under gone)

Reverb-cackle, the stars instrumental dead

light like dead skin peel and pick cosmic skiffle.


Has been my lover my voided my absent my comfort

has understood has made a point has stood up has pointed

and bellowed has blunted blades has saved has remained

This, my pulse through wires brain through feedback

little shock therapies little stars to the breast inject inject

inject! Mourn-rhythm, slow jerk, the cymbal crashes

fierce tide high-

fiving itself little lullaby (please hold

the line. please hold the line. please hold

the line) drift into visions of the high-fived tide pushing

oxygen out breaking ribs I snap into a skiffle

for the fishes

Awakened by twinkle by voices by the morbid a funeral

procession for myself for a dimension I’ve left

a corpse I abandoned carry the coffin

on the lids and drift

drift


drift



drift





d.r.i.f.t


echoes of screaming electric of being licked by a socket

of sorries of fucking of torture and grandeur of soiled

of soiling of the Earth bleating horrid from it’s roots

back down into its own skull

and a fog of last gasp a fog a raped

brides veil death

sheath

bellow dear fellow

follow me through nightscape and wait-

wait- wait- deviance deviancy delinquency despair a foreplay

with the unconscious and unknown a foreplay of farewells

a foreboding forlorn fuzz an attack a sweat of noise

an open valve of sparks and the fading the dimming the no,

no, no, no, no, no, no

kiss me one last time

kiss me once

kiss me last

kiss me first and then-

and then-

and then-


(can you hear the trumpets yet? My dear

my darling,

do you hear

me where

you sleep?)

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