PUMICE

i been dry as pumice
for
six 
good bad crazy sad happy mad
years
today

and im rattling 
with the needles battling
to
knit
my
looseness together 

but its all good my sunshines
that sound is a comfort blanket now 
like the washing machine is
when its changing cycles
while
youre
napping

~

sometimes i think
i should have stuck it out
but then again

no
no i dont

it never helped all the other times
and
this
time
the knife edge was too thin

balancing on the folded steel 
was dicing my adidas goodyears
all the way up to my brainpan

~

apparently 
i 
was 

brave to change

so well done me

pat yourself on the back

the therapists said

and tho yeah ok some of it was me
but really there was no choice at all

the days hurt
and
the nights 
well they were a video-nasty
forever trembling on pause

~

the
moon
still knows 
i used to yell at him

used to tell 
that yellow ten pence in the sky
to come down here
and say that to my face
between bars and the bottle shop

and i can still think
drinking away a nuclear overhang

in the wonderful wood of a wooden pubs wood

when the suns on the slide
is to know god
in a very special way

when 
really
it 
was 
suicide in slices 

processed white
and
toaster charred

drunk on the moon by garden sounds

from deviantart.com