Drink

When I was locked all up, and set a square turning path called out of bed to the kettle at the bar, to the seat at the table, I gathered up many types of drugs and secretly ate them, some fresh and thrilling, some poisonous, some unworkable and I lived with them. I gave them new names. They were born in the palm of my hand, I closed my fingers round them, and gave them my new time.

Maintaining…

Completely red.

What is red?

Red is run past factories, gleam of unseen in sooty silver shoes, they took the sea loudly, crying distress

The mermaid, the one being the heroic deed, jumped with a flick of shiny turquoise tail, and boarded ship, and ebbing foam cast out her body to the land.

I want to know emptiness so I can get through. Make sure of what is holding me back, of what it is…

No one ever takes to rights.

My speech is stuck on a twirling loop of classism, lower reel, lower step, steel assurances of what is said to be correct, no pathway out or over, drink of alcohol or taste of herb, no way out, no, dejection, upright dejected pride of little spouse, and little friend, and big fat rolling mothers, in a pub scene, dejected, out the door, and pick at the air, at the end of the rolled cigarette..