DIHYDROCOEDINE CHRISTMAS

it’s a dihydrocoedine xmas

a dihydro-hydra xmas.

its like

red snakes

and

hot dead bowels

its like rolling 24 on DVD.

I am dihydra-full of feelings.

horrible feelings

I want tuned out.

I have no comprehension, no skills to cope here.

I am the dihydra-softling

druggled

out on the periphery.

weakened and confused as a bank.

in no way am I tooled up for the job of life

life!

life hovers

like black choppers

in the one moon sky over my detached head.

things;

hateful

and

exclusive things.

a world full of oblivious girls busy

in no-name jeans.

(I am

their no-name jeans)

car keys bulge practical in their no-name pockets

tight on their thighs

thighs

thighs

it’s a dihydropainkiller and I take it for my dihydropain

with any

red wine

Mo sells

for 5 pounds.

I am Jack Bauer’s mission, man and machine.

and

like a Buckowski

I will grab your innocent shoulder

say

I WILL HIT YOU!

while staring hard at your no-name jeans

because I am angry

angry

angry.

I am

thinking

about

girls legs

in their

no-name

jeans.

I am

no-name

too.

I am weirdly invisible in the streets light.

          my mind

          (all that is really me)

          takes a back seat . . .

is willing and complicit in my delusion

     because

     the world is so fucking boring today

          and my escalated drama

          is the only palatable FOOD.

and if I let my mind think now I would fill it

with sad

and

cry.

mostly

this happens at night time,

mostly.

  

I am Jack Bauer’s Dobson Override.

his

mental dihydro-drive

but my heart has no CTU.

          I am

dihydro-moth hungry for one bulb.

(she smells,

in a good way)

but obviously EVERYTHING is pointless

and soon

to be

old dust

dead as skin down by the skirting board.

life alive flies like black choppers out the front door

a FAMILY!

(my dihydroheart shits with old fear)

out for a day out

in some car

some car

some car

some no-name hatchback car.

full of kids stuff and moods

is driving

sadness and living nostalgia

to the relentless and crowded beach.

oh life alive I will know you gently

weirdly so weirdly

with happenstance

soft time

and kindly intervention.

AND

there’s

black choppers thud-thud-thudding

in place of a

babyheart pump-pump-pumping.

oh old child heart grow out of your no-name tracksuit

you wore in Devon 1984.

  

I am Jack Bauer’s creamy bokah.

the beautiful backdrop to relentless terrorism

to Hollywood love propaganda

love propaganda

love.

love.

propaganda.

when I don’t even have the dihydro-skills to follow myself

out of

the storm drain.

when a new dawn fades; tho really it was always black.   

it was only

her reflected light

that I could see.

when reflected glory,

vicarious,

fades in a new dawn I know

                   know

                   know

         

REAL detachment has a rush

has value

has euphoria

has safety

has a reassuringly black coat on.

dihydra-xmas, dead now,

    

I march on

detached.