Stimulation – a poem

Tics come through smoke of old days To remind of what was, once and IS Come again, risen to the fore as lines Ingrained until routine, strange come To familiarly known ties, deep grooved. *  

Eater of Pain – a poem

From five to zero, not intended, lest Pains of sleep take over, fill the nerves With horror and suffering, sold instead Into duality wondrous and wild, aches Subsumed by care and fuss, consumed. * Broken razors grow inside the hands Like slow crawling nuclear fires let Loose from harnessed stars a’glow Like furnaces unleashed from...

Feeding the Hunger – a poem

Hunger abated by this unexpected host Though few may be able to tell such For effects and outward appearance Show little to demonstrate change. * Reduction and thought expansion leads To the hunger slowing, drying, less Than it once was, far less than dreams Might have displayed, hoped for. * Contrary to prior beliefs not...

Running Out – a musing

*** Greetings. Today I write of a strange vitality, the harsh wonder of experience. I am running out of painkillers, in a manner I had not anticipated, and while on a family holiday. Having misjudged my situation I now have 7 Tramadol remaining. Aching from various mental stresses the day before yesterday (yes, mental stuff...

Solipsist’s Dream – a poem

*** *** Pain is the solipsist's ultimate fantasy, The dread light dreaming on hale darkly, Like a sickness born from diseased rats Let loose into the circulatory stream Of an organism wondrous in the horror It too oft indulges. * A system undying that feels as if it withers Under the sensations crooning out cut...

8milli – a poem

A bitter concoction, like rotten vodka, The stingless syrup of buttercups Has too much colour to help, wishful Thinking entangles the unpained mind, Those 8 milligrams can be so kind... Yet those 8 are oft but kindling...

Poison of Choice – a poem

Tides from a star tyrannical pour From skies otherwise bare sanguine, A crude colour mostly buried under Tones darker than real, or pale As the viper's belly, poison dripping; Ready the glass. * Choose what evils you wish for Or such tendencies curtail tidily With ramparts of fine barometrically Tested mind-matter, the soul a somnambulant'...

UltRacemic Reflections – a poem

The pylons are burning A smell of ozone wafting Through the protective cave covering An awakening aroma of the Fall That horrendous pall long oft put off, aside The timid, lying and pale morality We wished things would otherwise be... * Mute considerations of doom Went smoothly nowhere A sewn up bag of tricks carried...

I Am My Own Hero 1 – a musing

Part 1 - Heroes 2016 was the year when I discovered that I am my own hero. Undeniable fact, empirically verified by many others, arrived at by a lateral process of elimination. You always have that thought, that you're somehow different, that things are that little bit more difficult for you than others, harder in...