The weekend fix

 Callum and Mike were in the dairy
We had to pretend we weren't doing what we were doing
Buying drugs over the counter
Designer drugs for a designer world

The trinket like sweets
thousands of artificial flavors
To become something my mind wouldn't let me be
Popping the small orange pill

and sensations would attack my brain and alllow me to feel
At last all of those things I´ve wanted to feel
All those mad thoughts giving me a sense of the ethereal
But right now I´m just scoring the drugs with Callum and Mike

The dairy owner isn't making it any easier
he says he thinks I'm some sort of outsider
who might go running my mouth and get him in trouble
I laid the cash across the counter and said there you go

Give me the drugs before your next law abiding citizens enter
and see us doing business like this>
So he gave me a small bag
surprisingly a few extra pills

I downed one and started thinking about
love, sensations and big hotels

Salad of the rose garden

 Sick and longing the voice called for fresh vegetables
As there were none
I made means to collect the edible weeds under the roses
I looked closer for something better

Nothing was to be found
So I settled down the leaves and blades of grass
Knowing full well the salad was incomplete and poor
Through my chest
Through this ribcage
In the marrow of me is a poor soul, Mother

I searched there to find something of substance to feed you with
But nothing was present
I fashioned a smile from twigs and soil
And fed you your salad

Sick and longing for more
emaciated
ribcage exposed
Lungs inflated

the thorns of the rose garden draw blood
cut us when we aim for something beautiful
Pierce out innocent fingers
We chew meager greens to stay healthy
As the roses grow lush

Through the fertilizer
ground down from failures and poor souls

Sensual naivety

 Half willing
Half in doubt
The two looked awkwardly up

The unsureness
The slight anxiety
a flavor to itself

Insecurities rose
And were quelled
As the way to love was found

Neither knew where it would all lead
The species of love they would experience
Adventure is unique, love is grand

Yet was it love that they would practice
Or just fleeitng connection
The proverbial chicken or egg

Do you learn to love through love
And thus love passionately
Or do you learn to love through self
thus love passionately

The naive sit cross legged
radiating a warm bakery
Yearning for butter

Yearning for some form of wisdom to dilute
their naivety

Hotel despair

 Priory gone wrong
Now a towering structure for unscrupulous men like me
The grand foyer Sofas the length of a bus
Classical art and ornaments

Come in I said
Their faces flushed 
One was confident the other slightly timid
Their personalities transmitted information

There was a sense that the two had one some sort of prize
I was afraid they might have misunderstood
The privileged world suddenly swallowing them whole
The bellboy was clueless and walked parallel to us

In step exactly as I helped the women to their elevator
The grain of the wood screaming for them to leave
The numbers above the elevator illuminating one by one
Whispering leave

I pulled down on my suit and held the elevator door open
As they rolled in their luggage suddenly looking excited
Both got in and gave each other highfives
I asked them if they were sure about what they were doing

They looked back with empty eyes
As if I spoke a foreign language
Up there you'll find money and luxury
But you won't find love

One of the young women burst into laughter
Simultaneously going into handbag to redo makeup
The other showed eyes of despair
Knowing deep down she'd come back down a different woman

Trapped in the aura of the charismatic one
Who was by now a bag of tricks
A shelf of damaged goods

ricocheting pieces of myself

 I met them at the door suspicious faces
Questioning
The padding of pockets to locate keys and phone
None were on me

I panicked I had no way of explaining myself
Their eyes grew heavy with suspicion
Out they went to see what I was playing at
My sins hidden at the grand hotel

The fact that I as a simple man
had learned the most heinous of magic
For I could and did shapeshift
To fill every need and whim inside my mind

There was not one simple man behind the face
But several all in search of their own versions of completeness
So when I slid the sliding door and witnessed their faces
I simply reverted to the person they knew in me

The one with no color or guile
The one that monosyllabically answered questions
Encouraged that part of me to enjoy it while it lasted
For that part was the part I liked least

Courtyard of the young intellectual

 Outdoor courtyard was full of young people
Sitting on yoga mats
Listening to the perk 
A speech from other confident young people

The priorities of a new world
The space between them was exact
After each great point they clapped
a whistle or two a love heart formed in fingers

Their bags full of study books
Their smiles and auras conjuring tranquility
With rhetoric he caught them engrossed
Drew them in net

Different ways of thinking
A simple yoga pose
A changing youth
A collective thought

backpacks full of books
Brains full of ecstacy

Stories about me

 The eternal party
on and on
they had been drinking
stories that went on and on

out of the party
over to a group in the street
one telling a story
about me

I never remember doing any of that
They embellished it to make it sound good
I didn't know how to feel
I couldn't settle in and tried walking off

Another young adult called me over
He started another story
about something I had done
Too much to drink so he slurred

I got the gist
He walked off brams and list
I was stuck at the eteranl party