By the Stream (of consciousness)
A few more steps to go
until I reach
the island of Success,
imprisoned in the stream
(of consciousness).
I am
nudged by nervous tremors
forwards -- hardly moving,
hardly standing still,
a few more steps to go,
cold, wet feet.
On the way I picked a flower
feeling exceptional.
I am sincerely hoping
others don't feel
exceptional
like
me--
all the flowers
will be gone.
Thumbs wrapped up
in glue and marley,
pale until the knuckles,
freckles like caramel crumbs
until the slender wrists;
the only body part that is not soft.
I insist
the destruction will never stop,
then you
with words about berries end it?
I become too busy with drinking juice.
Copy, Paste,
Copy, Paste,
Copy, Paste,
Copy, Paste,
Copy, Paste,
Copy, Copy,
Paste, ?,
Delete,
Copy, Paste,
Copy, Paste.
Confined in an Attic Submarine O-21*,
my windows only depict
blue blue sometimes white
but mostly blue.
Does my window know
other shapes exist?
a dull grey dull--
all I think of is plain planes
of blue blue my breath of white
but mostly blue.
*O 19 and sister O 20
were Dutch submarines in WWII.
First to run with diesel when submerged
a terrifying family.
IKEA cardboard packaging
nicely recycled into a painting.
Water colours don't love brown backgrounds,
they conform and decease
into IKEA cardboard packaging
guised as a painting
next to an IKEA drawer.
tbc...