Pavement Poem
Do not step here
my dreams have fallen
out of my pocket, and
are hard to find again.
Don’t grind them into the ground
Otherwise I will have to wait
for the rain to run into the cracks
to the feed the daisies
to push them back up again
SPYCHOSIS
let’s go fly a kite &
see wombs reject clouds
I’ve got the hole word in my hand
crucified by candy floss
I throw out the rubbish
and find my dreams
which ones are recyclable, I don’t know.
Second-hand slumber is not so bad,
sleeping in your dreams is good enough
Something must be rested
Do you realise you never look in your diary in dreams
you always know what to do next.
Waking is putting on the body again
I never seem to find one that fits.
The smile is cut out to provide a spyhole
my paranoia gets stuck between my teeth
It’s a grind.
I am hungry now.
I have fallen down a hole
surviving on catatonic toothpaste
till my rescue.
My silent screams have fresh breath.
welcome to my dream
there is no admission fee
and you will leave something behind anyway
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