Soup for Brains

Soup for Brains

What are you a glue, 
A true sticky flu,
That sticks and binds
Then twists and winds.
What can I do,
I’ll say to you can it be time
And further too,
You tricks of your kind,
That’s what’s the bind.
It’s in your mind.
You give me the doom
A slippery flume,
That is a vice,
A hard, a harsh
And sharp steel machine, 
That does not clean, 
But festinates around 
My head,
All around my bed
Till I twitch and switch
Like a nervous bitch
Until light is near, 
But never clear.

Again another fall into a wall
And climb and scrabble and scrape.
Words and meanings 
they have no meanings 
but to trace the case
my own private house,
in my head and In my house,
my shed, my shack,
Until the rafters fall in around me,
dead.
I scrape and drape 
And with strength
I crawl from the shopping mall
Of words and meanings,
Tall furry screenings
Of nothing that makes any sense.
There is no challenge any more.
I don’t know I can’t think,
The room it stinks,
I cannot breathe,
Only seethe around and jump
Child tantrum thump,
My mind it pumps
But does not find a reason
For any internal treason.
Bastards they are for my torture
Afar with ridiculous
reason and choking
diesel.

Choke on the coke,
Bind my belly with wine and barb
And the blasted telly,
Make me sick then soothe my tick,
Unbelieving in your powerful decision.
To steel all my vision
And drop in fission
With stars and their cars fucking prison.
Force the time until one doesn’t know you cunts
You lumps of stinking shite
That invade my soup in the winking night.
It discontinues my discontent
Awake no longer falling in my
Insiders tent.
Alleviation.
Should be plane to say 
that a case struck
and then left with marvellous zest.
Oh my chest how it howls and 
Coughs the black phlegm to 
Troughs.