Aisle Number Eight

I was trying to figure out how to stay
sane while being poor
enough to have nightmares
after hours of insomnia
creates a world where all the supermarkets
are shut the same way
public hospitals shut wards and say
it's temporary in benign voices
hidden behind closed doors
painted the same colour as the corridors
because an interior decorator
wanted a seamless look
while I, on the other hand,
went for the Mediterranean style
of topaz, citron, opals from eBay
along with Peruvian jewelry, the silver
scrolled like an ancient text
someone could make a glossary
of anthropological terms
introduced by Terence,
The Self-Torturer who says
'I am human, and nothing
human can be of indifference
to me' so it goes without saying
Terence, The Self-Torturer
wasn't working at the supermarket
when I was buying price
reduced items in Aisle Number
Eight where the sign read
"Toys&Games
Underwear" which made me
think about the missing &
before finally falling asleep.

---

Needles And Pins

Frida kept her ampoules of drugs
hidden
behind Diego's underwear
in the drawer beside her bed where she screamed
at her friends to find a soft spot she hadn't painted like a retablo
without the miracle of not
vomiting
when introduced to necrotic
flesh which is another of Frida's tricks, how she forced her visitors
to take a peek
and then of course, she'd laugh. This was probably the euphoria
if you like, the high of taking so many drugs,
the swirl of a room made smaller than false hope
invalids
pray all the surgery will keep them passive with vertical scars
taking them far
from the straight and narrow some say is surreal
wining and dining
fabulous painters who seem far too injured
to ever be be real.