13 November 2003

skull fuck blues

wanna cave in the skull of every poet I've met.
drag my face across artex ceilings and woodchip walls
the same walls that bleed in teevee whilst I try to sleep.
Imagine hearing it from outside my skull,
like when you listen to your voice on tape.

The walls are thin like a wasps nest - feel I could
crush them in my hand.

Besides me is half a bottle of wine, in 20 minutes from now it will be gone
and I will lay unconcious on the floor.

When I awake it is morning
I feel numb
my teeth hurt, my tongue tastes of stale alcohol
my brain is attempting emergency evacuation of my skull.

take a shower
almost feel human
I dress, brush my teeth, make toast.
I leave the house without locking the door.