Dwell

Be done

Be the line drawn

In the concrete

You aren’t cracked

Aren’t open

Aren’t anything bar dipped toes

Now stuck to set in the dry heat

It rained this morning

Dripped down the fruit trees

The last person planted

Left Christmas to come

In Spring

Let harvest be only

A once-a-year thing

Thank the lucky liars

It was this

There are things

In his stomach

That don’t belong

There

A rusted pipe

Tea pot

A set of eyelashes

6 stems of dead roses

He stole from the grave

Of his first friend turned envy

There is no acid

In the world

Strong enough to

Swallow productivity

The whirr either

Stays or never turns up

To the party

We can be calmed

But not psyched up

Medicated down

Blunted

To dwell is

To lose your

Mornings to

Ill formed logic

It’s the picked up phone

Before coffee

It’s the rat race no matter

What lane you meditate in

It’s not knowing

You’re a bit of a muppet

The man screams at hatred

Under the last full moon

Left not harvested

The road keeps his track

On the same beat

Fists

Fists

Fists

Everything becomes

The catalyst for every

Storm if we let

The clouds brew for

Long enough

Thick droplets on vacant faces

Who swear a man’s word

Can be law

There’s never a

Right or wrong

In a black hole

Abyss always looks

Like bliss to

The beholder

If the teeth pierce

The loose lips then

Let the blood be the

Torrents of

Daydreams

Treat others as

How you wish

To be eaten

How you wish to

Be spat out

How you wish

To die