Monday, May. 05, 2003/1:11 am

turning leaves

Tip the milk away.

Your inch doesn't match my pint.

Tiptoes echo with bangs and blows.

Icicle folicules, tapping nails against hardfloor.

No room in the chariot.

You'll be on your way now.

/

Bare branches,

birds stung of nectured melody.

Crossed heart, sewn mouth.

Spectacles left stranded on the desk.

Offline, Off key, Off site.

Craving the fresh taste of new.

/

Suck it in, spit it out.

Burrow through the timely seed.

Float amongt the marsh.

Diamonds shine like dirt, ruby grey.

Clingfilm door tight.

Bottling distilled decay.

/

You won't find me,

behind the gas, beneath the creases.

at the end of the packet of crisps.

Smudges upon the land.

Wandered out of sight,

vanished from your spot-checked view.

Laid under insanity.

Leaves slowly turning.

Your tune moving furthur from here.