damage by the #numbers

as kind as a tall stranger

i dare not look twice,

an invite from ill fate,

paints twice the damage,

an odd something in the confines,

never at ease not once,

best forgotten like the niggles,

that once were a pain,

vague notions in the air,

four times like seasons,

make a year worth dreaming,

the fourth in a square,

i complete my stand,

from under my top ten,

still counting blind,

but get ten out of ten,

crush chalk with my teeth,

white lies took a third,

made spit with pencil lead,

with two thirds i couldn’t focus,

a black star in a black night,

still nobody’s zero,

got habits to cull,

until i amount to naught,

always against childhood,

i feel like i’m coming second,

a race until the end,

my worst is second best,

nobody is even watching,

one in five can’t even listen,

don’t need to know the half,

a glass with five is empty,

life is a purring stretch,

ask the cat with nine lives,

its often torn down the middle,

without a stitch its suicide of nine,

they’ll invite you to a feast,

its off to seventh heaven,

skinny friends beware,

binging on the seven deadly sins,

at least one’s spoilt for choice,

i’m already down to six,

but nobody’s counting,

it could actually be eight,

#ouch my belly,

must be something I eight,

(hate)

(fate)

#great…

 

Mystery Market

Wearing the black of a sea traversing merchant,

I stand in a square with nothing but sums on my mind,

Beyond the spent fortunes of days as a servant,

One eye cast low and long for those riches men can’t hide,

My wares an assortment to enchant the purest beasts,

Of a grade to quench even the swelling thirsting of the earth,

From that place where the Moon’s Shadow sleeps,

Back to the sharpened edge of the unfinished dream I prefer,

Customers with strange customs oblige with desire,

Without which their manner would be most uncommon,

A need in any world comes full circle and never expires,

Just as life takes every drop of blood without ever stopping,

I offer them not only what they want but what their made for,

Something in the abstract a taste that leaves a quaking tingle,

Never a handshake or deep embrace while there is a world to explore,

A trade at fair price with the devil in the details,

A mark on the soul is a game target for the burning third eye,

When beating hearts clash with swords honour pales,

Blackened hammers with dull minds grace surely dies,

Quick fingers change destinies and flatter with humour,

A trick not acknowledged is still a lesson even far from the seas,

What you now have will eternally hold you in stupor,

What I now have you will one day beg for on your knees…