240523A
-----------

Only those who are wanting
can actually love anything
and most often they lie
about what they really want.

That is the way of things
and honesty is the killer
killing in cold blood
more often than not.

It is easier for some
to passionately love
what is dead
as there are no challenges.

The dead make no argument
and the dead only want
exactly what you imagine
that they are wanting for.

You can imagine anything
no matter how untrue it is
about a love object
to intensify your mourning.

A hair's breadth in between
loving and mourning
as the two flip sides
to passion's tossed coin.

-----------------------------

260523A
-----------

We all secretly want
and want to be wanted
even if it is only pity
for being a broken doll.

The head lolling around
some hidden pivot
where it retains attachments
to the chakras of agony.

A loosened pile up
of displaced connections
between sat on a flimsy base
rammed up into the cranium.

Feeling another crunch
that keeps to wondering
whether that is the last
and final form of severance.

The wheel turns around
and you hear Catherine laughing
about the various loose bits
that eventually fall off and out.

Out from such an unloved doll
that only wanted a gentle lover
who would take it away
to keeping it safe to herself.

----------------------------------

260523B
-----------

It gets to that point
where you no longer want to
pull out any of the weeds
because you feel too sorry.

Sorry to do it to them
because people are doing it
to people all of the time
and the screaming never stops.

That screaming that goes on
in the screaming streets
piercing apartment windows
overlooking the new Golgotha.

Everything is all about being
on the cutting edge of it all
and you are simply tired
of all the cutting up and down.

Then there are those who persist
in trying to pull you out
from any attempts at roots
the way hairs are sometimes pulled.

You are not growing
in the ways they want you to
because you are not that type
and you get the wrong chemistry.

You get it wrong and wrong again
because that is what you get
until you no longer know
anything that feels right.

The soil is the same everywhere
but it is something in the feed
that keeps poisoning everything
you ever hoped for as to a situation.

The desire to blossom even if
it is only once in a lifetime
but you are nipped in the bud
every time you stretch that far.

These are the badlands
and emotional weather is brutal
among those who come
to do the yanking and pulling.

No space anywhere
for anything to find its place
beyond the distant deep rooted
considered to be good timber.

That forest of carved faces
where you find no appeal
and are left to dangle
same as a limp straggling vine.

You want to strangle something
if you could reach that high
wrapping around a throat
and tightening the grip.

Had hoped friends on the vine
but only found the jungle
and not even a pretty one
to flower with.

------------------

260523C
-----------

Makes you really wonder
what you are protected from
so you write a long list
including everything
that you do not have any of
that might have been fun.

You try to be inclusive
and not leave anything out
that you would have enjoyed
knowing that it belongs there
on that long list of everything
you are supposed to give up.

Once upon a time you believed
in working at it and for it
but that never got you there
so you stopped believing
that you had any right ideas
that could get you through.

They took the fun out of it all
but they always rub it in
by showing you the fun
someone else is having
getting to do something different
that you do not get to do any of.

That contributes something
to your perpetual condition
of fiscal embarrassment
where there are plenty of ends
and even more never meets
adding to the price of shame.

There were always rumours
concerning the other side
and you thought you could
break through to the other side
past that brick in the wall
that has your name on it.

A little repository of ashes
containing every good idea
that you ever actually had
cremated from the start
as to any actual net worth
that might have come of it.

Riding the down spiral
after having fallen from grace
not having worked a way up
to where you could never go
past all those closed doors
and the portraits in the hallways.

You begin to want a new name
and a whole new identity
so that someone might find you
knowing your previous incarnation
never really had any sort of chance
to actually know that much.

The morgue has better bodies
than the one you are riding in
making you wish you could
simply drop your body
and pick up another choice
as to a better fit, form and function.

Maybe that would do it for you
when nothing else ever did
and you hear of people being paid
simply for having good looks
and having less to say than a corpse
reclining on a mortuary slab.

You used to believe in getting out
but the wrong people talked to you
so you had to give it up
knowing that it was a sign
that you were not wanted there
by anyone you could really want.

What you really want does exist
on many different levels
but it is the getting that is a problem
having worn yourself out
on one or another stray giving
that did not pan out to anything

Wrong number in the lottery
and the same when the phone rings
so you do not pick it up anymore
leaving machines talking to machines
while you remain with all the culture
that no one you knew ever wanted.

Someone in the background
insists on your pitching it all in
and tells you to start over again
to find something different
to do with your time
that does not waste money.

Your face having fallen
out from the rogues gallery
you are a displaced person again
and less noteworthy than the spider
arrived on a banana boat
along with a heap of yellow puds.

------------------------------------------

260523D
------------

Do not want to go there alone
the way I used to go there
simply to come away
with the usual feeling
as to having lost something.

A sort of hollow emptiness
that carves out the insides
where you tried to find exit
from inside a typical shell
without creating a disturbance.

Never create a disturbance
and never disturb anyone
in your diligence at evading
being referred to as disturbed
in the avoidance games.

Do not want to upset anyone
and do not want to intrude
particularly in private places
where one is not wanted
and bad memories are kept.

All those common places
of usual discomforts
among unconvincing actors
playing unconvincing parts
in the melange of bad plots.

Treading lightly as to subject
and keeping away from too near
to whatever might offend
knowing no one is interested
as you waste time and money.

Only matters how you waste it
as to the who, when and where
getting nowhere
that makes any difference
being the only place to go.

It was a long way down
but you were never really up
and no one that you knew then
ever bothers to remember you
in any meaningful way.

That leaves buyers and sellers
but you do not have
and do not want the goods
so you do not know what to say
beyond a passing politeness.

If there was a set up
it was not anything at all
that would be in your favour
but sure to bring you trouble
right down the entire line.

You want to get away
but it seems too much the same
no matter which way you go
and you can never seem to find
that one real exception.

----------------------------

260523E
-----------

By the time you know
they say it is too late
to fix whatever is broken
in the course of deliberation
or in the flux of chance.

The makings of disconcerted
impossible desires
for improbable loves
providing some illusions
makes for feeling more free.

Freedom is only a feeling
that you can try to cultivate
until you get the knack
as to how to fool yourself
into feeling that free.

If we went all the way back
to doing the past again
it would mostly be the same
not really knowing yet
how to change little nuances.

It is the big things that matter
the way the deep end mattered
from the shallow end
and never making a splash
from the high board.

There is no real respect
for that sort of thing
and a nickel and dime life
is more embarrassing
than life long water wings.

The same devil is always in
all those little details
as to where and who and when
without need for any
more specific references.