there is romance

in hearing her

rattle the toilet roll holder

there against the wall

knowing in seconds I can get in

do my thing

get the morning going

there is romance

hearing her breathe

guinea pig sounds in the night

snuffle pig I call it

as she moves restless

between too hot sheets

there is romance

in the smells the closeness

intimacy of two rotting bodies

living together doing exactly

what nature demands

there was little romance

when I lived apart

rattling in rooms

farting in the stillness

sleeping alone

dying in solitude

gracelessly

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I want to be walking

somewhere strange away from it all

not here clustered staring at thin walls

roads with no ditches fences with nails

sun beating my head until sense prevails

walking into sunsets colours of reds

out of my thinking out of this bed

towards a higher new day tomorrow

brighter lighter end of old cold sorrows

but I’m here nailed fast to the floor

by older thinking shying from the door

only me keeping me here not turning the key

I’d go there that somewhere tho’ I’d still be me

can I please be you or you? set me free

I want to be walking under an azure sky

noticing the plants trees smells scents passing by

where the dog of sadness will leave my heels

for love to somehow take me make me feel real

& until then I will feel these walls

come closing in

until then

the pongs of spain

la peste espagne

milla tras milla

la marcha implacable

de cobertizos de pollo

siguiendo la piel el camion

el matadero recoger

a través de las montañas

sin alivio

al abrir todas las ventanas

negro & oro

campos de trigo chamuscado

ardiendo la neblina de calor

sentado debajo de los pinos

después de una tormenta de verano

peor

el dasague

en ausencia de lluvias

caminar por los campos

de Romero

siente las abejas Hum

horarios de almuerzo en el pueblo

ventanas abiertas

siempre está en casa

soup of smells

my gut goes

every now & then

usually when I’ve eaten stuff

that I don’t process well

courgettes

strong onions in excess

unnecessary stress from folk

who know better but don’t

this changes my body

sense of smell

& I swim in a soup of smells

riding through the city

the aftershave of the dude there

on his way to meet his lady

her there over denying the menopause

with fruits & flowers fragrances

last nights impromptu pissoir on the corner

hot dogs

burgers

smoke from cigarettes

stench of green from the car in front

sweet fresh frying doughnuts

sweat from the guys digging holes in the street

that faint gas scent of buried city dirt

more piss from that alleyway

all around a melange of perfumes

deodorants shampoo disinfectants

heat from the pavement iron & blood

& when my gut heals

all this is gone

I am back to normal

?