Jasmine on the Bedhead

Too true Or too good to be real thought the manic phase was a joie de vivre Thought it was God, or me turned out to be the chocolate Jittering through insomniac hours tick tick twitching two Me and my overactive ego My overactive ego and I Ever enlarging sockets liquid-filled and swimming around in their own salty solution Sore-throat stitched and prickly Slowly unpicked with pocket knives Post-operatively this sharp tongue unraveling Roll out the red carpet For all desires to dance naked on Peacock paraded in these Alert, alonely hours Please give me something stronger Something to knock me out It won’t be hard to find a vein They’re positively bulging in the infa-red Fairy lights and drooping sprays of jasmine Sweet-smelling decay Wrapped around the bed head An impromptu trellis To wind strings of word around Hang them up for morning Should dreams eventually come Drip-drying by