The Venue Must be Trashed
I enter my other world
Where pain – a brutal sun – rises so slowly
I hardly know its pointless orbit has begun
Then – quite suddenly
it floods my landscape
Higher harsher more violent rays
find even my soul
And all dreams die
I live of course
– nothing as numb as death appears –
Just remembered life offering the hope
this senseless sun will set.
Only relief matters
I have no defences and as for plans,
Ideas and my spirits love of flying
They are stupid ghosts
Bleached by the light
Intense pains turns on all dreams
As for my body it doesn’t simply crash
Like an annoying computer
It goes haywire
Stomach in stasis, temperature yoyos
Senses recoiling from
Light, sound, smells
Blood vessels blow themselves up
And shrink like mechanical balloons
I throw up of course
anti peristalsis has to join in
My body is a party and the venue must be trashed
Sometimes – if not alone and offered kindness
I weep ridiculous tears
Grieving for my functioning world
Barely remembered
Days and nights later
After the party’s over
The brutal sun begins to set
I journey back slowly
Ghosts of ideas growing as dreams
reinhabit my exhausted being
As senses slowly calm ready to feel
The real sun
And on the third day
I rise
Again
