Friday, 29 August 2008

My Guardian Angel Hates Me

The arch of the world arched inwards
Silent sunshine
Like some unbalanced wood house
Construed to be meaningless...
I say,
Jazzy temperature of nuclear lightbulb mojo lights up,
Working hours a day aches feet arching forward over
These lips haunt me plain milk
These eyes fringed love of eyes of silk,
Why she hates me is another reason.

Up the alleyway rains for teeming doused
Roads jumper sodding jumper hair and head
Totally wet.
Okay. What black world sky!

What milky bland glass
Plain tabula does she think she’s writing on?
She disappeared for months vanished
And then comes back
Just like that.
What? Just made of milk? Or what?
Cider. A fringe of happiness. A pout.
What a fucking waste, half-misconstrued
Half wasted; what a waste of time with my
Guardian angel,
Green, grassy green...
Red, blood red...
Blue, ice

Her hair is cut over her eyes
Her tongue behind her lips.

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