17/02/08 The Unit

Hang ups fall of in The Basement.
Woven webs hang fallen girls.
Pricey silence and finite liberty.
Safety in networking.
Too tangled to drop
Politics. No peace.
Never released.
To fall is freedom. To land, death.
Drop - Stumble - Trip - Tumble
Care full of the key
Whole
A turned ankle. A twisted cheek
Bruised blush and a greying glow.
Disco damaged discs.
Ribs and wrists resist.
Curiosity provokes.
Cowardice persists.
Is there anything behind those eyes anymore?

Life as a Legal Drug Dealer

Daily I hunch as a pensive Paolo
Upon the stool of derailed dreams.
Bathing in burning garlic fumes
and the stench of chip fat
long since past its best.
Squinting at the scores on miracle cures
purporting to prolong a painful life.
Apothecary's emanuensis.
Tightrope ballerina between
The Junky
and
The Medicated.
I paddle in their suffering,
bailing out water where I can.
These dosette boats only float for so long.
When they finally drown
I step out.
And carefully dry the skin between my toes.

Roundhouse, London, 12/07/2013

I steamed and spun one London night,
As trains did long ago.
Euphoria; experimental;
Honesty and woe.
My facial vines of eyeliner
mystified the wasted
and a one-off song from Palmer's tongue
set straight the rag-most-hated.
Unexpected overwhelm
and floodgates rattled open.
Lost and then the Bed Song
un-numbed my heart so broken.
The gift she gave - an awesome show.
An unguarded performance.
The gift I took - the strength to glow
and keep on moving forwards.