Perfect helical winding, applies uniform,
Expansion. It breathes with freedom.
Unhindered, propulsive and analytical
Of its secure fixing. Me. I’m expanding.
Through to remote view. Dated. Shake.
01:01:21 numerological point as perfect,
Perfect. Stilts over holly’s prim perimeter
Views one way vantage on our side step
We waltz by the grand piano next year.
Our sapling takes root. Next beach nest
And ruminate over steps blessed. 8 Feet.
I’m inspired by vacuum, it’s atmosphere
Leaves me listless. Squares on clothes,
Held breaths longer. Drift with empty eye
Blur drafts only bored, as I win, Difficult.
Memorise co-codamol. Skull moves,
Thought meat slower. Banging the case.
Strain on my spine, as I, lead helium,
Balloon. pull harder. It gathers nothing.
Grind these three spheres until only dust
Remains. Ready for its presentation box.
Not a bone to see. Icing sugar carbon.
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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Analogue
A different trajectory, vapour ware. Code written but lacking commission. Ugly conclusions draw, but none true. Discrepancies litter. Jitter crippled. For safety, I’ve isolated memories. Not downloaded, corruptible script. Filled for reference without comment. At the risk of being rude. Your pursuit. Its intent, a loss spent. As, don’t you know I covet the dents, Sketches up arms. Enough said. Depress. Shred and burnt. I’ve turned my comfort setting lower. Dialled down deliberately. Dumber. As impetuousness’s inertia, Can cause coasting beyond stops. Plush with concierge co-opting, Yet unhindered by gloves, lint or mites. Impervious to human liquids. Elbow deep, pure and mechanical. Carnal artisan, cored programming. Sensation feedback loop adjustment, Required, or continuous errors.Occur. Glamorous glitcher, utilitarian rogue, Immersive intoxicant, ambiguity abode. Pleasure only model. No depth
By Paul Beckett5 years ago in Poets
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