The gas bottle emptied.
The oven element puffed out.
Meat still raw
lunch uncooked
So I cut salad
Side dishes and attempts at self knowledge
I attach the new gas bottle
The smell blows up before I can tighten it
Oven goes back on
pots start steaming up again
The timer bleeps
I can eat my understanding
Thrown fire
Capturing and taking the temple
Fire tying itself to the walls
A carbonized sign left inside the wall
River side mystery
Peasants collect water and throw it
Something in the undergrowth of the bank
Through the flash flood
Washing through cities
Rains monsoon in nature drive over
Enabling full blown chaos
Every catastrophe
gatherings of wandering reptiles
Finding their recesses
Whispering the rumours
Of more future chaos
The fire looms on buildings above the land
The land is choked under water
Shiva appearing in the steam between
Rudra rising bursting over the city
A deafening siren
The third eye rises
Bhairava humidity
Each form of the Ugra roopa
She sat at the wooden picnic table.
It had been moved into the garage.
Love was so foreign.
She clung to emotions.
Over the other side.
The immature cousin played pool.
He imitated betty boop taking the shot.
Teeth stained as he grinned a grin so wrong.
His self neglect only visible to others.
Inside the body there is no certainty.
The wooden seat feels foreign.
A face was on the portrait.
Struggle creates beauty,
discomfort and shame pollute the aura.
Become evident as you cling to the table.
There is nothing stable.
No real safety.
So when you refuse my embrace.
And hate those that invite it.
You lose out noone else.
There's nothing sinister here.
You look away from me,
insisting on that indoor picnic table.
In that old garage dim and dank.
With that rugged cousin.
He's bordering on gout,
drunk since yesterday.
I wanted to be a firefighter
A hero for the small town
Known as fearless
Recognised for my deeds
Riding the fire engine
Siren warding off the traffic
Heat becoming a necessity
anticipating the flame
Extending the ladder
Axe on my belt
Scaling burning infernos
Following the screams
Pulling smoked stained people out of their homes
Smashing an entry and exit
Dragging the high pressure hose in
Dousing the fire
Salvaging what I can
Letting the rest burn
Open city count us
We are ants
We are crawling
over running
We are rushing
cooperating
Competing
We are forraging, we are hoarding
Open city look inward
Count us
Find our queen
watch us scatter
canibalize
canibalize
At the fountain
sense flys out of the water
Love inside the water
Fondle
Life is the vessel
Desperate spirit
Flying out
Wetting the pavement
Architecture of birth
Following years in the air
Falling into the pond
Fondle
Life is a pistle
The soul is mushed
The ingredients added
cemented
Painted on the fountain
Where sense flys out
You seek love like thirst
Fondle
Yeah can I get the urgent ego package?
"You mean the midlife?"
Yeah I'll take the midlife crisis.
"Okay would you like self deceit with that?"
Two servings please.
Also I'd like the impulsiveness sauce.
Side of fresh desires.
Slice of amnesia.
And a seasoned false identity soup, are you still selling that.
"Yeah, we keep that well stocked."
I guess it sells well then.
Listen don't get the order wrong.
Last time I threw a lit cuban cigar in one of your rubbish bins.
This time I'll burn down the whole kitchen!
"Okay sir, just drive to the next mirror I mean window."
