Clean

I am so clean
my fingers chafe together
sovereign tips
pain fuelled flagrant
shrieks – infants pandering to
their requisite attention.


I am so clean
salvation detains me
rendering me to rolls of indolence
unutterable disdain
rigid seconds of apathy.

I am so clean
the very thought of
a heart whispering
sufficient to trammel up
this waking existence.

I am so clean
yet yearn for sweet bitter retribution
fantasy fuelled by condemnation
dancing on hotly innocent clouds
screaming obscenities to shatter the sky.

I am so clean
I am saturated in satisfaction.
Satiated by complacence
I prevaricate, amble, meander,
ponder the past for violated delights.

I am so clean
I have rarely trod your way.
Witnessed self annihilation
the value of craving or
held within my sanctified dreams
your image





ravaged yet clear in
narrow intensity
you gaze, ever aware
unblinking, incredulous
how did you arrive to here?

This fragment of waking
we call now.

I am so clean
I loathe this delusion
of what we deem acceptance
our catatonic state of earnings
our zombified capsules of entertainment.

You alone transcend
our realities of acceptance
you and no other
your unyielding sense
of what is
simple a grace of unparalleled you.

Dirty me.