BETTER PROBABLY

cant feel better
until 
i feel better . . .

i could live like the drs advise
stale
and 
following instruction on work scribbled post-its
doing 
relentless
all the high maintenance my crammed mad warehouse demands
while
all
the
days
have
no separation between their wobbling lines at all
and
desperately i wrote forced light occasions 
onto 
fiction-future calendar pages like prayers
HOPING
and 
WILLING
that sparks arent flying JUST on opium sop tv
and 
if one living spark falls inside my reach
GLOWING like hearts
i wont pat it out with a dead and angry paw and look away
i wont gaze and dwell on the lost and futile over-lit day
but
blow calm onto its simple red 
and 
i wont look back
into
the DARK thats calling - cos thats how i build my bones now . . . 
i'll
walk
away
from
the bleak peaks/that i took on like delirium/like a serious hero
and
fall re-built and grateful in the warm surf
and open up my fists full of caveats
to let them plunge and plop into wet sand
thats NATURE now/not abrasive irritant 
and
the
bleak peaks
will crumble 
i HOPE 
if i dont look back at them

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