Today I feel so ill, so out of sorts,
Not coming out to play.
I appear to be sweating dark poisons.
Bone-delirious,
Goosepimples on the brain,
Shudder and shiver
You weird little imp!
Nothingness is yours
For the taking.
“In a lifetime the average person
Spends the equivalent of a year on the toilet…”
A whole twelve months of my precious life
With my trousers round my ankles
Huddled on the pot…!
I am here,
The Count of Monte Cristo in his dungeon,
After God knows how many years,
And you, dear reader,
Is it you that makes that scratching noise
On the far side of the wall?
Scream, little baby,
Scream into the sky,
Breathe in the world
And scream.
Collapsed dead drunk the other night
Almost knocked some sense into myself…
My head still hurts,
But I’m no wiser.
The truth slips from my fingers
And dissolves
Like soap in the bath…
Can you feel
The unseen dimensions of time and space
Which distort gravitation,
The weird darkness somersaulting
And nonchalantly practising legerdemain?
Strange blue light
Irradiates
From the Andromeda galaxy’s core,
Where frenetic blue stars by the hundred
Race round a tiny circuit
Round a black hole,
All hot, fierce and young.
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