Horror film: I got killed at the end but it was sort of my own fault apparently.
Dream of viciousness and feeling lost.
Dream of bending over edges in high places and short skirts.
Dream of dark skies hiding neon colours in bricked rectangles.
Dream of bony fingers just clinging to their hinges, finding their way towards your mouth. Sucking them is accompanied by the very real fear that they might come off and you’ll be holding them between your lips.
Dream of violent altercation over who pissed on the floor, queue staying stubbornly intact all the while, through angry eyebrows and raised voices, a slammed door and a tut.
Dream of being summoned out with an arm in the air, giving a hateful glare but still having to traipse home with aching nubs for feet and never actually getting there.
Marble golem made of white with heart of unknown colour,
Image of a jewel set in pearly granite, static or with a life-full thump?
Picture clashes with suggestive possibility of bone-thin casing
Spread like icing over cake.
Marble golem’s working cogs click or turn in silence.
Hinges hidden by a falter in my vision or by the perceived being, filled with elusivity?
How much of you is your ivory outside, are you dense or hollow?
If I cracked you would you emerge gasping, or would you lie in pathetic pieces of regret?
Demon taps on the window.
Demon taps on the door.
Demon taps on your bedframe.
Demon taps on the floor.
Demon taps on the lightbulb
Demon taps on the fridge.
Demon taps on the bathroom mirror, but not from the side you think.
here’s the place
the place with no face
the place with the space to grow a face but without the intention
because the face is a needless accessory and in the gap something greater can grow,
in the gap the unknown becomes living and the space that should be occupied
by a face is more meaningful without one
this place, this easel must remain blank
i draw this figure here, but the face has to stay away
because it’s edgy and everyone likes an edge right
the hood must stay up, the back must stay turned and the drawing on the earth must remain faceless or it’s just too familiar when the figure becomes a man or a woman or anything other than just that,
a shape, a spectre with an inbuilt mask to push someone from curiosity to fear
when they try and fill in the blanks with the worst thing they can think of
baby fall into the grave
enjoy the drop
it only lasts years
and you’ll lie there for eternity
but it won’t be you
just your little lifeless atoms
with no buzz left
Tablets in a hole in the mattress
Protect me from the hobbling scene
Tap tap tablet
Tap tap typewriter
Tap tap cane on the sidewalk
Tap tap grapple on wood floor