Jettison the Jetsam

I would stand still if I could,
Be a photograph of this thought,
Photograph this place,
A reminder,
Remember,
A trace,

A memory of a smile lost under a sad grimace of contorted lines,
Overgrown vines strangling shrines,
A forgotten piece of mind in a jungle of people past,
Their insults cast like shadows in afternoon sunshine,
And in the dank grows this vine,
Starting to untwine,
Flotsam and jetsam from the frayed floss of rind,

In the dark is a moss maligned,
Beneath the slime is that smile,
The one that I have lost buried in my mind file,
But in the mean time,
While I try and find my mind and feeling,
My temple has brine reaching it’s ceiling,
Drips overflow eyelid sills parallel to earrings,
Gushes as it fills the drums of hearings,
Makes ripples resonate with beats of light in the souls waters deep,
That sound can’t make me find the slumbers as to sleep,
Or find the sheep to count as did the little girl Bo peep,

My simple reason ate the white purity,
Right into morals I use to keep,
And kept,
Slept with and bore,
Eaten as a worm does till it hits the apple’s core,
A married man fucking a whore,
Diminishing in character and colour to create a hoar,
A rapport I have with the centre of my sphere,
Until I disappear some more,

A saliva swallow as I step back into the photograph,
I laugh as I turn black and white with no grey,
I am a snippet of the array,
A statue in decay,
I try and discard my cheek of its salty drizzle,
Marble lip that’s bit by a faulty chisel,
Teeth stilled in a nervous bite of a fright face frozen,
A desired chip of life I’ve chosen,

Stop this hired ship of life charted to the horizon,
The line crossed between reality and reason,
I am franticly jettisoning my thought from my sinking intellect,
Splatters of slurred words replace my dialect,
Infect,
Inflect,
Like a swarm of killer bees in deflect from a honey specter,
The nectar tar like ambrosial heretic directed from its course,
So much sweetness it’s bitter and quite distant from its source,

My luggage my baggage that I toss to try and keep afloat,
Somewhere someone is trying to save me with bounty or a boat,
With closed eyes I hold the vision so I can gloat,
I am a proud captain on a sinking ship charted for an enlightened latitude,
Where drowning my righteousness will rectify my attitude,
I stand mute meters from the mizzen,
I salute the dissipating horizon,
And the water that it lies on,

Preoccupied prodigy bought up in Marxism,
Photograph this now conceited defeated effigy caught in his own martyrism,
As the water climbs the rails,
And the sails gust with gales,
Then finally in the wake of the sunken,
It is the stillness that prevails.

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