Dark Tunnels

Sitting on that chair with two arms

So prophetic through its palms

Supporting my body but not my mind

As it slips away into the unkind

Thoughts flavoured with agonising anguish

Innocent but apparently churlish

Concepts of gut-wrenching power

Ideas that take hope and devour

An empty room filled with people

A lone church with no steeple

One body fills not half the bed

No place of trust to rest my head

#2k13 (Hello, Johnny)

In an air-tight missile bunker he cowers in the corner
shaking like a leaf
good grief
no hand relief
auto-fellatio on auto-pilot
he can spark but he ain't no diamond
laid himself out in a trough to be consumed by the swine
they don't smell divine
but with the help of some wine
he'll be just fine.