Grilled

High temperatures are the most risky.
We crave them, desire them, dream of them...
Especially when we think we'd be happier with them

But when it's too hot - we don't know what to do.
we're grilled before we know it:
Suspended - snuffed - split -
Before our own fires and the equipment we use to keep them at bay.

It's time to carry on in the stifling flames
Breathe in the smoke and spit it out again.
In your face

You don't dislike it, do you?
It's a little bit of alright.
It chokes you and frees you from
Everything you thought you hated.

Now look this way...

Ditch

I'm not sure I'd be happy in the ditch all the time
Dirty beggars, scummy foam, drizzle imperceptibly soaking my skin
Leaving me shivering and unsure
But there's a time and a place for a bit of grunge
It breathes reality into life
It licks off the sugar coating
It allows us to appreciate every perverted detail
See distilled colours around us
Feel the lightning touch of the tips of the end of the wohrld.
Like static. An electrified gesture
And then sink. And enter the glacier.
Keep me there.

Global

I'm starting to feel rather local
How do I hold onto the worldwide groove
And ensure I'm not stuck in a scratch
Repeating the same things over and over and over
Automatic engaged - thinking paused

Feels like time to change things abit
Stir it up
Mix a combustible substance into the essence of it all
A catalyst for creative dives into unexpected dreams

Your dreams?
I wonder what's in them?
I wonder where they'll take us if we close our eyes and succumb to
What's well beyond meaning

Junk

Three blissful hours
Words looping through crevices and folds
Finding their way deep under my skin, finessing -sliding- gliding
Burrowing past the conscious into unheld meaning
Stories meandering around and about each other
Familiar names and warped features that flash again before my eyes as I try to sleep.
I'm haunted by these unknown people I've grown to care desperately for
Who populate the space between my eyes and my cortex
Did you introduce us?
I think you know them too
Let's find them - slip into their lives. Make ourselves at home.

Doors

Shunted roughly from one reality to another

Pushed through 

the elements suspended in the frame

Screens and vaults and wood and hollowed out echoing shells

Each one guarding an untold chapter

Can we prop this fire door open for now?

The flames are ravenous. 

Down

Starched white oceans
Stifling drug-infused breezes
Each breath a tranquilising concoction
Treacle in my joints
Warping time and motion into a gluey gelatin
Breath - lungs pressed down by dark low thoughts
Singed black and brittle
Chemical and crude
Life tries to play with the pause button on.
And pulls me down into a knotted tangled pile on the floor

Removal

Wouldn't it be great if we could call a removal van for our souls?
Not to take them away as such, but to specify the imperfect, annoying elements that have to go.
No need for quiet contemplation or purifying cleanses. Just a call. Or an email even.

But identifying the true culprits would be difficult. Those bits that seem problematic might be our saving grace one day.

What are yours?