Too true
Or too good
to be real
thought the manic phase
was a joie de vivre
Thought it was God,
or me
turned out to be the chocolate
Jittering through insomniac hours
tick tick twitching two
Me and my overactive ego
My overactive ego and I
Ever enlarging sockets
liquid-filled and swimming around in their own
salty solution
Sore-throat stitched and prickly
Slowly unpicked with pocket knives
Post-operatively
this sharp tongue unraveling
Roll out the red carpet
For all desires to dance naked on
Peacock paraded in these
Alert, alonely hours
Please give me something stronger
Something to knock me out
It won’t be hard to find a vein
They’re positively bulging in the infa-red
Fairy lights and drooping sprays of jasmine
Sweet-smelling decay
Wrapped around the bed head
An impromptu trellis
To wind strings of word around
Hang them up for morning
Should dreams eventually come
Drip-drying by