The Acid King

Path to the throne paved with broken fractal carpet of smashed fireworks

Ordinary and at once forever

Chemical contusions scarring the brains aquifers

Folly

Dusk

Disarray advances, it pinches the cheeks, makes them ruddy. Mercurial bystanders jeer as this holy fool careens, tripping over his velvet robes, but this is all ritual

He wants to be mocked

A female human encased in fat makes slow progress past my window

Hot coffee cools to this

Imprisoned in a decaying body that has broken down a voice sweats through the flesh

Old age you bastard, this push cart survival, this endurance

The day I die new sparks will illuminate the unquiet dark

Seven battalions of Brent goose will fly in unison across the River Blackwater

Megalithic stones will rise up like overnight fungi out of the damp moss

Owls will descend on the city

Ordinary bus routes will make wrong turns into miracle valleys

All poets, street ranters, mad men and women will be given life time bursaries

To continue living the way they want too.