euphoria

the most beautiful things in this world     cannot be apprehended by the senses      they must be felt by the heart     like the feelings that pass between lovers in moments of passion     I don’t know if it’s even possible to convey those feelings in words    manic sex is a form of communication fully tactile and totally emotional     to capture a picture of that, you’d have to paint with colours no-one has ever seen

feelings come and go, like clouds scudding by    they are never really constant     they tend to change through time     my feelings are hyper energized     but prone to painful inversion      the rush of pure exhilaration      gives way to dreaded apprehension      I wake up into nightmares in the valleys of despair    to lick my wounds and pray once more for the state of euphoria     and the joy that awaits me there

 

secrets

I gave away my secrets     they were weaponized by erstwhile lovers       who came in like avenging angels       to get my business fixed     but I untangled their machinery     and left them dangling by a thread      there’s an edge to certain words        sharper than a guillotine      but there isn’t a word for everything     so how many wordless secrets were lurking my bed      speaking directly to the heart      and bypassing the head?

medication

 twice in every day      I schedule my medication      I don’t get the good stuff       they save that for terminal cases      but I die a little every day       that shit’s for pain      so why not give it      to people in pain?     they say it’s all mental     that my kind of pain don’t qualify     wrong address  again   best test my reflexes     if I have any  left    I function out of habit     but I can hardly roll a joint    

perhaps it is all in my head      from an injury long ago     somebody damaged my psyche     and it never knitted together      I could fill the holes      with the help of god’s own medicine       the universal panacea       if they gave a prescription      of the proper medication     I could harvest pearls        from the bottom of the ocean       or scud across its surface      like a lonely albatross

TKO

I’m taking a dive     but don’t count me out      I’m the fringe contender     and a bit of a bleeder     so it’s only natural to take a beating      whenever it’s dished me     whatever the day     or untimely season     a change in the weather       brings unwelcome challengers     from within and without      to pin me on the ropes    and then sucker punch me     it’s a losing battle     the odds are against me right from the bell     but I’ll stage a rematch      on the bloody apron     the most valiant of bums    in another rigged bout 

the cosmology of finks

other peoples misery is delicious     they say it’s good to share…   that a trouble shared – is a trouble doubled      a secret shared is a loaded gun    confidentiality is a power network     your mother is an informant      and your friends policemen      your life is another’s gossip      because this is just a soap opera      and you can trust others – only to play their parts       those who  betray you  may have noble intentions     but it’s your dirty laundry hung out for inspection