A rebel without a clue.

It is eight thirty The zombies join me I wait for them never to appear But they hardly disappoint. Beautiful blue skies White gulls far away Green seas calm Before the winter foam. Not enough ... Concrete stance Frail and lacking Formless Puzzling Saturday? Why should I see a stripped down universe? Did you strand me here? Too much Too young Until the end For something so ancient. Amongst Hard working Little thinking Too tinkering Fools You sit beautiful And reclined I sigh For youth Love for youth. A labyrinth is the complex ways Our seldom easy to plan means NHS can only slowly rattle A poisoning tail at the end of a path. Physiological, tick. Security, tick. Belongingness, no. Esteem, no. Self-actualised? Improbable. Being aware of awareness Inner peace and stillness In the face of the hurricane Of humanities farce.

Working in the weight Inside eyes frightened Scaled in to lateness And your verisimilitude. All psychopaths are ruling us now From the first dawn of consciousness Until the sunset upon this broken throne God it is bad. Gregg Wallace Is a crudely pictorial Probably false Faked from buttons to face. Didn't you realise? Is it possible I've lost interest in Facebook? But am I alone? First I got bored of television, then computers now I enjoy sleep. Oh, dark energy - you flood Our light minds with fear All we think we knew is false Arriving on shore without pilot or mast. The universe is a hologram How can a string vibrate 'one dimensionally'? Take me away from here. Flex a wrist, right No blood there Sure to run free at Least expectation. Today is likely to be numb And suffering mouth feel Which speaks of astringency When something happened Drinking a cup of Jasmine Tea. Is the decline of the pub the reason for the increase in male loneliness...