Insecure Sex:

A somersault: tongues
hands, animated flesh,
Insecurity.

oh, my slipping mind ...
no time to complain
..... more sensitive now, I’m
exhausted.
swinging on that sweet
anticipation ...
sex on something
drugs ... maybe
IN ... (it must be) ...
LOVE ...
IN ... (more likely)
SECURE.

Because ... sometimes it’s so difficult 
to be tender and slow
in a Cyclone World ...
stressed ... defensive ... coiled up, ready
for action 
thinking ... planning ... green light ...
red light ... rules ... bills ... regulations 
income ... dole form ... meetings ... engagements ...
this to be done ... that to be done ... do ... done ... do ....
did you? ... I must ... we have to ... do ... tomorrow ... done ... was
that
tomorrow? ... provide for ... plan for ... satisfy ... dress for ...
present well ... responsible ... don’t disappoint ... don’t fall behind
behind your friends ... your family ... your own expectations ...

A Cyclone World.
And so when the touching of souls
grows more infrequent
and the heartbeat labours
steady as she goes
in the face of constant noise, 
satiety and silent grief
decades old
and change
and change
and change
well one day,
it’ll be over, we’ll both move on ...
’Just a stage I was going through.’
’It was good while it lasted.’
’We parted the best of friends.’
’We fought at the end.’
’I needed some room to grow.’
’I felt imprisoned.’
’I needed space.’
’We were just ... bored with each other ...
I guess ...’

Insecure Sex.

Too Many Times:

Hey man,
you became her burden ...
how do we avoid
being somebody’s burden?
Next time
it could be me
I could be ...
Shattered like glass
one last time
saw it coming
shattered one last time.

Muse sez
’Grow ... etc. etc ... etc...’
but, we’re all in fragments now
forget about Rimbaud
and bourgeois neurosis
poets aiming well placed 
Word-SHOCKS 
to overly secure minds,
Poets using 
bells and gongs
and sweaty throngs
of blue eyed lusty lesbians -
in those days it was a deliberate
activity
a process,
with a beginning and an end
to deconstruct
an early sleeping mind.
there was always solid ground
to return to
Not so now.
We dissolve like butter near
a flame,
like metal in an acid vat.

I’m a plant, been moved
too many times ...
too many rooms, houses, beds,
women ... towns ... cities ... friends ...
roads ... jobs ...
too many times. 

Sure I weep and regress but this is 
harder than the last time,
I’m not sure ... if  I have ...
the get up and ... go ...
might just collapse you know
dissolve ... go down ...
call it quits ... take the race car 
to the pits,

How to avoid
being somebody’s burden.

[click to view introduction]