Frantic as a child in a room that’s bombed from the outside.

when it nights
rum me sense
less

forbid me
any chance
to converse

break my teeth if need be.

Deafen me render me thoughtless-

actless for a night a
fortnight or a forty
nights

So that I don’t have to read
about shelling, assault over
borders, artillery hitting tar
gets near the skin of human
life in newspapers in the air
port in pacifist conferences
all over the retinas of your
eyes:

Operations-operations-digressions-

Drug me then put me
on a bus heading to
Nowhere Court Road

Feed me bliss tell me
in this Holocaust I’m
not the only one stand
ing leave me
like nothing

that does or doesn’t, that is or
isn’t, that filters the moments

Make me drink so much
that my eyes change colour
and become alcohol eyes or
pull one out leave me single
I’d-

cyclopic, detached & illiterate
when it nights


Kandinsky - Composition VI

Kandinsky – Composition VI