As hail falls, the day arrives. Celebate.
Life or death? Wake or shower? Christ.
Or presents, neatly wrapped. Solice?
Merchant purchase, ancient poultice.
Healing tear. Flaunt darker fare. Relish
In planned healthy sin, I’m transfixed.
Not cold enough to lay, defrosting itch.
Dedicate the hollow ground, melted me.
Technically white, shredded seat, Aim.
Littered ice cubes. Confetti questions.
Curse religious interjection. Christmas.
Days to box? Fuck off, violent cruel sport
Love to recycle. No gloves, yet sterile.
Rooting for treasure, yes, discover roots.
Tendrils from yesterday leashes today.
Traditional smears, bubble don’t squeak
Yuck, mucky mash-up. Chuck-it-up mind
Apply a denial compound, as actions in,
Lamination evidencing. A menace mate.
Humiliated. This rope is frayed red. Emotive. Dead. Pull from the stork. Stupid robotic punch drunk, conceded.
Hibernate hybridisation’s inanimate state. Transpose the précis, file. Smile.
About the Creator
Paul Beckett
I’m a writer, horologist & joy filled explorer. Reality to me is plastic. I’m fascinated with time, quantum physics, analogue and fashion.
My writings at least 69% autobiographical, often 99%
Fav:Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams- S.Plath
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