Tentative childlike steps / wisdom trepanned out of existence

I walked along the passageway like this for what seemed a very long time.

Gongs gently wrapping themselves around the breeze / green moss and hanging purple flowers

It required supreme determination to get through that day and many subsequent days.

A light-bulb moment of indiscretion /all assumed notions slithered away tension realised.

I came here to die, I thought that was true, I knew it to be true

The shadow of the sun on overheard hovering kestrel to be seen and attended to

Blank spaces in the corner of peripheral vision / hoardings ghost people memories collapse in on themselves like black holes in the street where it is cooler than

Before

A leaf falls
a dog barks a car door slams
a resounding “fuck off” repeat
this symphony

Rub it in like bloody polish over the face and arms it will protect you against the brutalizing rays of the sun

The sun that wants to eclipse all / all burnt out wretches we worship the sun we lie prone against it

A reminder of our mortality that we should decipher try

And unravel if you can a violent thought process and live again be born again

The process known as metempsychosis unadorned threshold altar prehistoric retreat

A fast axis towards deaths drivel end howling writhing clawing waste materials

Walking lonely through the city catching glimpses in reflections the process the words

The getting up going on begin again roll an orange ball down the hall

The process the living the lying the shades of hate the pulsing lights of life

Sleepless howling caressing clutching screaming living diving

To do it again racing too fast

The cameras eye the lenses the final show the end of the line the unclasping the oxygen the minds bowl the yes the frame

Time travel wrought you here and it can take you back again

The literature the small talk the fresh fruit intake

Heatwaves dust the pollution
the sepulchral the shady plot

An overgrown burial mounds the progression from pale to translucent from lucid to awake

Technique practice evolve emerge from under a clod of disused ideas the train oh the trains and the very border of eternal return the scurrying the black mirrors the tears of blood the hurt

The Thames so much music everywhere jazz flutes bent horns car tires screeched black patches of spilled petrol everywhere the dogs the men with the dogs the trial the sentence the impression that you are being judged the paranoia the ravaging conquest of it all

Those victories those small triumphs that tell the mind to communicate with heart and breathe deeply

The small talk over and over again the

Only thing to do be zen mindful do not resist keep the flowering skull mind open the slack jawed hypostasis the memories of songs the bleed out of those old radios all coalescing in a billowing smoke cloud of ideas yes ideas not real but withdrawn like objects

If nothing exists apart from my mind, then

How can I be real bones?

And blood floating in a

 Watery moment   now

Look up

It has begun again