the patter of your brain

its like the pitter of the rain against the patter of your brain upon the matter of your name in a batter of insane. Its like a shatter of the same in a batter of your blame in the pitter of the rain against the patter of your brain. 


citrus fresh

The day is still

crisp sunshine falls onto

silent field

that chequered art of

crisscrossed oxymoron leafs

the universe wakes

cold glass of orange citrus

encased in bittersweet clarity

an untouched mind the

empty canvas

ready to be tainted

the chaotic anti-dance

When they asked me to request a song

any song I like

unto a dancefloor of slurry happies

twisting ecstatic to the melodies

I picked the song I knew they wouldn’t like

one that hadn’t made it to the pop-charts

one that wasn’t repeatedly played on the radio

it had no repeated chants that brainwashed

the one that would never make it to their ears


I picked a song of anti-dance

chaotic symphony of disharmony

one where, if you tried to move to the beat

you would only do it right if you


stumbled out of step beyond

the realm of sanity

found those magic moments in your

fleeting aura that reaches the ceiling

in misty lights and blurry edges

foggy sights and into madness

this is life and

it will be the death of you


let sunshine swallow the whole day

into oblivion

like bubblegum that will remain

for seven years

with three moskito bites on the

sole of my foot

and shoes that squash my toes

into blisters

they think

the matter in my mind has evolved

but it has only dissolved into

an insignificant pulp


on the edge of my bed and say

the same things again

hoping to brainwash me into acceptance


this water



tell me how you feel. 


the sound that something makes

when it has passed its limits

the sound of breaking down

apart and pieces

apart and it all 

it all goes to show

that we must we must

take it slow

in order to prevail

now snap

and its all disorder

fragmented snail

static mind stopping

thought repeating the

dull dull dull thud thud

thud of a negative 



it is all 

element and




Bound by a lack of choice

a glass jar

a barred cage

one of these days I’m going to break this world

make it mine

one of these days I’m going to crush

those atoms in the air that

wall my way and

water my disbelief

catch miracle as it almost

flies out of reach

from the tip of its wing

and pull it back down to earth

let it meet concrete as I step

on it and say

you cant leave if I cant


everything is changing and the same

repeating bubbles fleeting

crystal shining moments

blinding scarring






what fickle beings we are

to break our own hearts

with the tar of self-torn souls

while the dead stars


histories final stale breath

you are a world away

I remain in mine

the future is here and I’ve

met your death

when we stare at the sky

and say we’ve failed life’s 


The canvas is broken


how this paint colours in the world





remember who you are

remember who you are not

be humble and graceful and


step warily and worriedly 

onto absurd shifting pebbles

over shallow streams


in a croaky voice with

eyes full of tears and a 

heart full of fat

it beats

as if it rather wouldn’t do

just that


with a limp in the 

posture of the broken

be tamed

by society


by civility


when you speak

think softly

know nothing

remember who you are


life will change

and float like oxygen into the clouds

like memories that break out of 

existence and leave its entity of thought

from which it was encased

encased in melodies and nostalgia

that covers you in its contentment

of having lived

fifty seven years from now

and you are watching incomprehensible news

about a stranger world 

in an empty house

on a forgotten neighbourhood