Space is a Lonely Place to Be, But it Suits Me Just Fine

You're all wet and gooey, like a sponge cake soaked with toffee.
I sometimes cry when i remember how beautiful you are.

Morning day dreams and brain puss night screams. A poem about repetition.

I remember the days when I worked so hard that every night upon sleeping I felt as though i was laying the weight of ten bricks on my pillow. My brain had turned solid, stifled by the information I screwed into its once fleshy, open pores.


One time I felt as though my brain had turned into a brick, I worked it so hard.


I worked so hard that my head grew heavy.


I could barely lift my head I was so tired.


“Aw man, that’s nothing. I swear down I couldn’t even lift my head off my  desk working on that shit.”


I feel exhausted.


I work too hard.


My head hurts from overworking.


I don’t work anymore, but boy, when I did I worked hard.


Work? No way, I burnt myself out with that thing.


I’m on vacation.


I’m desperate for a break.


I’m frustrated that I’m burnt out. I want my work to mean something so badly, but I just can’t carry on.


I’m out of ideas, and I hate myself for it –


But this one time, I worked so hard…


Pillow Painting

If I let you stand over me,

Will you milk me of my every nightmare?

Every sheet I turned crimson with horror,

All of it – from petty wail to violent shudder?


Wrap and wring your slimed hands around my breasts and pump out all my poison.

Please, I want to see the green puss squirt away from me,

Let me hit the wall, let me hit the wall.


Your tallness reminds me of splintered scarecrows

beating away the peckers.

I want you to beat them away, Roger.

Beat them away until I turn blue,

Until I feel sober,

Until I meet you,

Once again and forever.


Do You Know What I See When I Look At You (2) | Art by Kenichi Yokono

Kenichi Yokono

Red stains on your window sill

And all the songs we used to kill driving through Larches Lane

I remember our walks through Southburn Park and your silly attempts to capture the wind in your hands.

I sometimes wonder whether you can see us,

Can hear what we all say to explain away your clumsy fall, a fall that hit us with a bit too much force, considering we all saw that the day was coming,

Running lightening fast towards us in a stream of silent screams,

The jump echoing the joys of yesterday and the insanity that led your way.

We saw it coming, Lara, but did nothing.


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