Ankle slitter

 The man was sooty now,
five hours under the car,
he had just lied there
and choked on exhaust cloud blues

His leather pants and jacket skimmed and scratched, 
against the coarse concrete floor.
But he didn't care, he almost drifted off.
Every canter of footsteps would awaken him fresh.

He dreamed of an achilles heel severed
and was willing to wait the whole day.
Just to see the flesh above the high heel or boot open
and over the pale gray tarmac spill.

Then he would covort with himself,
between the chasis and the concrete.
The deepest sense of fiendsish freak.
As the man or woman fell and on impact coming face to face.

The responsible for their undeserved pain.
As one wrythed in shock and pain.
The other in strange deranged pleasure,
before rolling out redfaced and bushwhacked.

Getting on his motorcycle and riding back to his cabin near a slum.

Eye Under The Sun

 The glare hid a galaxy of sight.
A patchwork of every cream and yellow.
Sun stained nimbus.
Built painstakingly by an enthusiastic morning.
So dedicated to show off the eastern sky.

The warmness of which moves me to motion.
Virtue is movement.
The morning holy therefore.
For building the inspiration to get me mobile.

To creating one single firey eye observing me.
As I earnestly exercise after dawn.
To wear myself into the first hours,
like weening at the front door of life.

Yes the eye captures any and all who are up and exposed.
To the early architecture of a common tuesday.

Gray manning it

 Dressed in the long beige trenchcoat, panic cream. Black top hat and dark glasses
Taking steps to follow in unison. 
Unwary crowds swarmed and separated.

The gray manner kept it up, even reproduced clever gestures.
Both absurd and refined from those infront and those behind.
Creeping, entering and exiting shops surrepticiously

Little undertakings of purchasing, timed and executed to fit back into the false safety.
The invisible danger of going incognito, not understood.

Coming up to the car, the head turns left and right to capture any potential harmdoers.
Several clung to the brick out of sight.

They crouched with evil grins, despotic eyes, insane brows, behind the walled corner.
Their shadows hostile and unpleasant, touching out and making the gray manner drop her keys.
Slipping from her hand and mouth cursing.

Luckily trapped in the grate not falling through.
Panic cream didn't take, for the hand quickly went down to grab, white knuckles, gray man. 
Half because of the horrid shadows

Half because she was afraid the keys would slip down further. Pushed by the evil shadow fingetips.
As she arrived home in her safe bubble of a car. On the safest route back to her address

She unlocked the door and closed it behind her. Taking off the colored rainbow scarf inside her trenchcoat.
And taking a deep breath out as if she was holding it the entire time.
She threw the scarf down next to the bumper stickers demonstrating her political opinions and sense of humour idem.
There was much to celebrate. She had survived another trip to town. Unidentified. Undisclosed.
In that sweet illusion of safety.
 

Maiden in court

 There in court
from the throne beady ones staring
Maiden blushes
The new fantasy

The flavor of the year
The unhad sex in the air
The unborn heir
Her cascading hair

There in court
Smirk in quiver
Heart in armor
sense of passion

The dance that makes the body sway
The movement shows seductive ways
The sense of urgency makes king brave
New mistress those bedsheets crave

The pale supermarket clerk

 Pale clerk
Pink pale skin
A mouth that wants to smile
A disability in the body

Some deficiency in the mind
But a will to joy nevertheless
Down the aisle to replace lost items
Heavy steps and a light aura

The other clerks move around
half embarassed in their normal skin
Yet this pale clerk moves through
For she belongs

Her condition hasn't limited her
The place is hers
ownership radiates
simply being who she is

A friend that doesn't say hello

 Round the park he walks
Alone headphones in
Looking ahead not talk
Walking at a pace

Rigid stance he fosters
Fully introverted
Straight posture
Forward inspired

Graying toward mid fifty
Youth not forgotten yet
keeping brisk step
No opening for regrets

Cap and rucksack
Ready to go
A silent friend
Barely says hello

What Jenny is

 You puncture the night
You grate whimsy
Explore every possible pun
Every well pointed quip

Yet shed the glow of goodness
Inside the night you punctured
Inside the lost person you hungered
Yes you shone

An ignis fatuus that enlightens what is dim in me
You come quiet as a phantom
Awkward as a maimed zebra to wreck my illusions
For that I am grateful as you gallop on my skull

black and white, black and white etc etc

Your sensitivity is supernatural, gorgeous
and captures me offguard
instills a sense of danger
Of total exposure

Of every hidden and forbidden texture
That makes interaction with this fumble of a world
In a way I am clean by your doing
In a way I am clear in my sight

Yet in a way I am a fool by your fire
One you enjoy as eternal kindling