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.
13 November 2003
skull fuck blues
Posted by Cecil B. Demented at 18:31