winter rain

 she was too good to me      I could never repay her kindness        a certain amount of magic        is necessary in love          but all magic comes at a price      my pockets were empty       but my head was loaded        any other weapon      might have proved less destructive        but I’m a killer        with a killer’s destiny      she spoke to me        about heroin     and death      and love        she tried to rehabilitate me        but my heart was still captive       to the oriental curse       and I rewarded her devotion         with slow burning indifference       I smothered her with darkness         and left her in the winter rain

the yule tide

 it’s something o’ clock     on the astral calendar      that time of the year     I’m put in the stocks     cause I am tangential      to the status quo      too fucked up     to go with the flow        I’m all jammed up     and glued to the spot       because hell is social     but I am not

 

I’m out of sync        with the conversation      another symptom       of my growing alienation          a greyish catastrophe     unfolds behind my eyes       as another fraction          withers away and dies       it’s the same old singer      it’s the same old song        something      somewhere      is going wrong

nauseous

 I spent my last afternoon burning foil        every day I went to the well        till one day my bucket sprang a leak         the arse fell from the world       nausea had my throat         and I was humping air and filthy water       I’d found the entrance       to the 7^th level of hell         I was dissolving in a puddle of puke           my revulsion was purely organic           borne on waves of reflux action        I was sickened so deep my organs ached        my ego has taken a bruising        but I’m bound to get lucky someday     I’ll come back and buy this town      smother the bitch with gasoline       and burn it to the ground

the dreaded love machine

  if only  in my head    I always felt free      let’s call it cheeky    or maybe libertine       I seize opportunity       rock hard  and ready     sheathed in latex gloves        I’ve more than once been mangled       by the dreaded love machine       but I have no regrets      no bitter feelings      more than once I figured      I was only dreaming

there are no substitutes in this life         everything that is      is what it ought to be        we are all just dreamers      and this is just a dream        but keep the channels open         you can call on me    I will not be defeated        by the dreaded love machine   

the colours of the night

the moon was slung real low       in a big lazy coupe de ville     so close I could have smashed her windows        but I don’t carry no stones in my pockets       I’m merely  packing bones        I beat the sun into an early submission         it’s gonna be dark       for some time to come

the world has dissolved at my fingertips        I know every colour of the night      they were revealed to me          one layer at a time     it’s not so confusing           I saw it for a second         it flickered in and out        the symmetry of being      has never been in doubt