The Prey

 

Panic took over

best not to see.

The worst offender

offered sympathy

in the form of a shoulder

propped up by a boulder

ready to crush

if the cards did not flush

ready to flee

abandoning once more

the sympathy station

the sympathy whore.

Weep with your violin

proud standard lamp.

Weep with your dagger

crank up the angst.
Weep with your stomach

cowardly retching.

Weep with your words

that did all the stretching.

The Spit

 

Diluted by distance 
built-up resistance

with mortar and self and some bone.
My sea has been muzzled,
waves cease and lost puzzles
bite tides, coned off by thorned stones.

The Dam is all damned
He’s all now but shammed, 
awaiting angry air from the lungs. 
No butterfly effect
just the body reject.
hot saliva mixed by a sour tongue.

SPIT

Stale

The Funeral Fairy Cakes
were fine on the day
Stodgy sickly comfort rammers
to drink with my Martini.
I've kept four in a tin
withering
like you
injected with sugar
like you
wearing fuck you fancy dress.
Butterfly cakes would have been more fitting
I could watch them soar
to the great cake cloud in the sky.
These four
will be buried in my garden
in the rusting Roses prison
patted with earth and words
with the cliched scratched one
just above the surface.

Perhaps the word will change over time.

Strange Tea

Keep hands and mouth busy

Can't inhale quick enough 
the prescribed brown liquid

Fill as much as you can
into hamster cheeks

sPit onto wall
and call it Art

'The Death of a one'
now dribbles down and stains
my chosen lemon shade

I get a biro and mark the outline
trying to create some form of pickled memory
to preserve in citrus

I dice an onion and
create tears.