Tunnel Vision

PerfuME

My fragrance cannot be replicated

It is always with me

It comes from my toil

And from my love

It’s there in the cold

And the heat

It comes from me

And flows onto others

My fragrance is mine

And I am my fragrance

The cage

Who let you

Out of your cage?

Locked away,

Yet with no key,

So this could never happen.

Though how does one truly cage

The intangible.

I am you made flesh.

Perhaps I then am the one who should be caged,

Locked away together.

Perhaps to let you out

Would in fact hold you.

Perhaps this is your poison speaking already.

Are you prepared for this undertaking?

You've shown no sign that you are prepared for this gelatine product, Which is a good thing because you clearly couldn't handle a body of such voluptuousness

TwentySeven

I drift silently Like blood through water The purest pollution. Confined to a bottle With no shore leave I float My only aim is to wait To make it out Whole And no longer diluted.

What’s for dinner?

It bubbles away

Like a pot in the background

Simmering over flame

It’s almost audible.

Tucked away for safe keeping

In the kitchen

Boiling.

The flavours getting stronger

And stronger

Intensifying.

I can feel the heat

Rising

Roaring

It burst out of the pot

Demanding my attention.

I turn

And there’s only the pot,

Quietly bubbling away.

Death threats

If your gonna take him, take him, If you’re gonna leave him, leave, But please make up your mind, Because I’m starting to find, That I can’t take these fucking death threats anymore.

Wait, what?

Little fingers never waited So long To be waited Upon Had to weigh out some Gold, or was it silver That had a lighter weight I can't wait for the answer Now that they're waited They can move faster But that's only after They've waited to have The weight lifted To become weight-less

The eleven thirty train to sleepsville via stone heart town has left

How do you feel Because I don't know how To. I want to know But Don't lend me your knowledge Just let me know, Tell me Your side of the story Don't let me in the door Just let me peek through the window And catch a glimpse I don't have the time Or the capacity For it all

Leave the past behind you

Stories from a thousand years and more Lurk behind me My back turned to the past This seems all very metaphorical Though in reality This is just where I chose to stand. Sometimes the meaning isn't hidden Sometimes it's not even there Sometimes you just have your back turned.

Begun

I should preface this by saying I'm not sure that it's finished, but I like where it's at and I don't like having to force more words, so it's done for the moment. I learnt to walk, By following the goat on the mountain side. I learnt to see, By watching the hawk high overhead. I learnt to hear, By listening to the lone coyotes howl. I learnt to speak, By talking to the trees. I learnt touch, By floating in the ocean. I learnt of you, By forgetting everything.