Aliens

I come off at ends now, broken as my skill and weak as my will grinding my teeth to avoid one more reversal of promise or falling back but I can’t help it when I am low as now, sinking into the chairs and the starry-black granite holding my fingers out, hoping someone will come and wrap a palm around it and pick

Up from the ashes and
Hold me tight.
Oh-oh-oh hold me tight,
Fill me with the light (ho, ho, heh, ha, ha, ho)
Of the flame
Far end, wide and burning itself
Into colourlessness

Into normalcy where I sit in the back seat of the bus, watching it crash into the wrong lane - Full Speed Ahead - the driver’s back twitching and careening the steering, his spine jerking up like a sax’ buttons, letting him breathe and then plunging him again deep into the journey towards the burnished sun, vexing and wavering as I bind it into poetry from the rear-view mirror. Everybody runs towards us as I watch them from the corner of my eyes – strange beings that seem to be growing out of the cracked earth. And back in the bus everybody’s shades of purple – light, dark, purple with blue, purple with white, purple with green, purple with black and purple with purple. This is where the clock strikes

Hijacking my dreams
Savouring everything I was once
Time
And letting me watch
As it sprays everything with cataracts
Like those in the sky
White and black
Clouds of a colour it likes
Time.

And as I pull off my glasses to rub my burning eyes, I see everybody turns to brown and black and they all stare back at me passing lewd whispers in my ear even though they are so far away.