ROBOT DOBBIN

some days
my own thoughts
bore me to tears

or would

if my parched organs

could spare the saline

~

& stuff i say sometimes

jesus christ its so freaking

default & vanilla & nothing

its like my intellect

was 3d printed yesterday

~

so here i am

a retired robot dobbin

wondering about trepanning

& the myth of good sleep

 

SAFER THAN TREPANNING

in the heave & low-fro 

of the slow-sick fug-fog
my brain does whine 

its white noise moan

skull boxes it 

it is muddy

i cant even wail

~

i go live in my belly

its simpler 

more animal

roomier 

safer than diy youtube trepanning

GONE TREES

the sixty foot conifers on garage corner
council
hacked
to
raw stubs
leave an absence
like
a
tooth
extraction
my eyes repeatedly explore
like
a
restless tongue
a blown open gap in the A road skyline
trepanned
for
new air
and
orange
new
builds