Screaming Swan

Various lies on scattered eyes that wreak fiction on tense thighs -
a particularly cold bed is this that vomits each morning and quivers in the bath-
room. Where is my mental breakdown? Where is my vice?
Slumped in sober lands of pine and looking down telescopes at Jonestown
horrors and sea holocausts, gentle junkie floats on
cloud formations, dystopian tree tops, crows cackling
like witches reaching for broom sticks in their search for the kitchen.
I can't admit to libido again. Stunted ramblings
towels thrown across the floor-
wrinkled, fronds become spines, metonymous-
voids, villi, voids -
beyond GCSEs there is only anguish and only beauty comes from resistance :
not revolution. It is all very well to tell me-
'You don't want that'
'It's not the sort of thing you should get involved with'
'It will drag you down too'
'Leave, leave, LEAVE'
It chose me, I am aware and invertebrate and indolent. I will screw my skin
with nails ten inches with rusted moustaches, mallet wielding,
to the sticking place. No mercy for those whose hearts don't thud,
but instead lie stoic, waiting for the body to collapse, give up, rot.
Dualism interested me but repulsion of the gut struck hard at noon and fucked
the unsuspecting customer to my solid doom.
Pulsing in trees and wrecking in car park there's a love that can't be spoken about
because my last words will be you, your head.
Lovely trauma, caressing bones, kissing tendons stretched and snapped long ago.
Transform me into assertion and leave me at the gutter,
I want palpable cruelty, things that stand on courts, stand on the jury, it's me, I'm the victim, the perpetrator, the delinquant. I lied to my parents.