Westward, maybe

03Feb11

Westward, maybe
All encased in small luxury
Sinking fast to prodromal sleeping

Tall glasses
Filled brown
And white with foaming

Little device
Transforming a hushed place
Into nightclub sweat sedations in miniature.
Telling the things we tell

Unexcited by revelations
And indifferent
To talk of future
And of destination.

‘One day I’ll leave’,
dandruff and decision,
‘And never see any of you again’,
And the blessed offering
Of meagre consolation.

‘All the men I know
End up wanting to fuck me’,

A cackle from the testes,
A knowing wink from
Urethral eye open
And slammed closed in
Neurology’s allowance
Of the illusion at least of veto.

They sit.

They drink.

Inoperative at the start.

He remembers others
And guesses at her thinking,
Wondering if he still has
An intact theory of mind.

She stares upward
Impassive pensive something
A focal point in a nowherescape seductive

To her dreaming.
And dreaming comes
All dopamine discovery in tangled sodden bliss,
and sympathetic epilepsies
In melancholic shift.

Doing work.
Doing silence.
Undoing everything in his head;

Evaporating desire, a non-eternal sky,
where aircraft and satellites mark a boredom passage
westward and home once more.

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One Response to “Westward, maybe”

  1. Such a interesting intereaction going on here in these lines…rather enjoyed reading it.


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