FRAG 33

& anyway when the music comes on
the tub thumpers & a chord change
then i know my heart beats too

& i write a something
an effort anything
a deliberate nothing

for therapy & purpose
& the corduroy blues

SO THERES THAT

did a hard ton of work 
on the bad architecture
in
the
skull bone 
over my boots
when
the 
patches of common habits
split
like
green 
wood

counselled the horrible this
and
therapised the awful that
and
still 
i'm 
a 
jetlag hangover night-piss
with
derelict legs - wood eaten by generations of salt wind
and
fingers pumped with helium 
and 
bad 
air

but i get a few scribbles published
in underground rags
and
theres a soft cat 
sleeping the bedspread
and
a
special woman - they both purr - who softens
the rough edges of the cave 
to 
say 
the 
least . . . 

and i got a new vics nasal spray habit too
that
puts
some
legs
in
the empty suck of decaff

from unspaceexploration - tumblr

JOHNNY SICKNOTE

three years of doctors

for 
body
and
brain

some 
helped me
and
some
rushed me
and
one
said ANY AMOUNT OF BLOOD 
LOOKS FRIGHTENING 
ON 
A 
WHITE 
T SHIRT

today
i
call
the 
doctors
again

i
have 
a
list
of
questions

from jimstoons.com

BLACK DOG GUTS

discharged myself early from the last talk therapy

tired 
of talking 

man always in the same jumper sinking into his cheap chair

not many sessions left to go . . .
and 
tho i have these moments
moments 
when i am serious as the cold war doomsday clock
or 
when an emptiness like an epoch arrives in a sunny garden evening and 
wipes everything away like a bulldozer in a battlezone
i 
have fallen free of the black dogs guts
and
tho 
his huge shadow blocks out light sometimes
enough glow gets by 
to know theres more
and
he's
dragging his bad smells and disease to hell
alone
now