Check, check, check again.
Look again. 
Look again.

Is it good again?

Are you still my friend?

I've been rude again?

Said the wrong words again?

Regret the wrecked train-wreck again.

Wreck the set, stamp out the mess and tread backwards again.

Moon-walking and sliding , regressing time  & rewind-again.

Instead of living life my friend, existing on the outside,  to no end.

Outwards seeking eyes  for signs and glimpses of kindness , admiring and 
surprising finds only to find the scowling frowns  yet again.

Thrown aside again. 

I read that I should look inside not outside in order  to regain.
the feeling that is missing  and then 
find my self, like a  toy with a spring that was broken, then

pop up like a revived rabbit  , bouncing  big smiles lying again.

the inside is clearly retired, tired, decayed and never got started 
never formed a semblance of  any useful device that normal people retain.

Fuck it, grit teeth,  I will move on again. 

Wolves run in packs,  each  pounding body 
jostling for position,  akin to 
males surrounding  a rose flower
crammed on a sofa, like sardines.

Each bowing,  trying to get in, nuzzle
into  ground like pigs to truffles
muzzles snouts with nose and ear rings 
and hats like clowns. 
Clowning around. 

Actual crying sounds, 
in surround-sound sounding
off about  times when they 
found their own flower to sing about.
A thorny  issue  no doubt. 

Sit taking it in, trying to tune in,
Catching a glimpse of eyes 
THOSE eyes, the ones  that sing like
sparkling jewels in a sunbeam.
Ruby   glints  and sighs, laughs
and surprising smiles. 

Banter  and good times. 
Flick flick reading
looks and tiny changes of minds. 
But actually aching, waiting for 
signs and signals to go 
back to what was 
amazing. 

But mistaking. 
Mistaken. 
And on and on  goes the aching. 
​

Hovering on the edge of hell
Anvil ankles like white  egg shell
Dragged from baby frame  to  mountain male.
Look behind,  a crying trail.

Handbrake turn!

A dream did tell. 
There is a future, know it well.
Its you.

Did you see yourself there, promoted?
Did you see yourself there, wealthy?
Did you see yourself there , healthy?
Did you see yourself there, happy?

Handbrake turn slammed,  SLAM this angry sham of a man.
Shake , rattle, roll.  Reject the fake fatal flawed foil.
Hold still.
Hold still.

Now go.  RUN.
​RUN!

Embers from footsteps  as the souls remember, trembles..
padding, tiptoeing  and   steps thrown over large gaping holes
like flimsy coats and blankets over man-holes.   A role  played 
by man, yet a man sold. Sell this man's soul, swallowed whole. 

List the sellers , some small, the others tall.

Others retire after performing.  So go perform. .
Puppet shadows on the wall. 
This  poem is an answer to you all. .

A polly-gram like a polly-graph , a year spent   lying in dirty parrot-soil. 

Not long after so-called  friends befriend then turn on you once more. 

Chewed up and spat out  like bird droppings,  trample all before.

Aged, like the frozen egg of a dinosaur. 

Another sad poetic recoil, in a poetry lab, hands under a table  , promises like a gun-retort, withdrawn .
Good will spent before the night is out.  Withdraw.  Yet the marks remain stained like oil. 

Is he a male troll or merely an ingrained boil? to lance? Dancing kindly  trying to find kind eyes , rising to meet mind to mind? No, not at all.
Lead  down the path then tossed aside , is that enough? No I have more!

Lilly pads under frog spawn.  Under the cathedral lights at dawn. 

Rose thorns growing  under your skin while you snore. 

..the sharp fact of not wanting you any more. 

Swallow nestles in dank, dense fleecy  mess
pecked shreds, specks of flecked dread, like riven chicks coldly rendered dead .
Shredded blood black, now that was once scarlet red.

Not a Fox, but a metaphor for feeling  the same old hopelessness.  Try to look ahead? 

​Ahead?

I thought I'd try write something positive.

I guess Swallow isn't ready  yet. 

 I close my eyes, 
they glue and won't open
black worms bounce , vibrate   like  frayed rope, and
acid coral  wings purple and orange and green haze
flashes madly across   from one side to  the next, stop !
 I'm not coping!

I'm not coping?

Copying pair, one day clone to the next , each the same impostor
a double helix of ADHD binding , blinding tired old fool be the joke while you're joking.
Copulating sighs, winding like pale thighs  snaking and winding inside. 
Baying and hoping, for a climax of shame, still groping and groping. 

But the thought of hope has expired, retired and died
I wipe my eyes  then they finally open.
​

Stay for a moment and breathe silt air, sit, stay, try to repair,
pray, make vague note  of any sign of  rare times trying to relate signs 
and signals , breaks in sentences, trials  from said crimes..
Fair  enough, if its worth  sighting tried and  died in the wool 
minds,  MINDS. 

Mind you it's a high crime to define  slug lines in the sand.
A whole band of those I  have bought to this uneven land.
Outlandish  bonds , bound and tried yet never a  trial. 

Tried without a court.  Sometimes. Somewhile. 

A man with vestigial horns scowls at an entrance .

Yet  he himself  is deceitful and in-denial. 

Torn chances, nasty and  hating dances, he wishes to be the one who advances.
Deriving   pleasure to displeasure the treasure of others. 

Fine.

Yet  the isle moves as an Island.  Grooved into   continental  movements away, away,
slowly as roses rise and entwine. 

A rosy mind, red-light shining  to the point of being blind.  

Blinded yet kind,  kindred eyes and a meeting of mind.