Charlie Baylis, Self portrait moving backwards from Miley Cyrus' knickers

Pink Miley, image by Irene Koronas

Self portrait moving backwards from Miley Cyrus' knickers

Miley Cyrus' wet knickers haunt the bathroom floor

“she came in like a wrecking ball...”

my reflection cast onto diamond opera house     pink Chanel shoes   pink pork-pie hat

pink everything

my reflection running from diamond opera house     leaping into sun drenched shafts of opal-mine

watermelons explode into the walls around my arms

I rip up beautiful reality    I rip up sequins of confetti

the lights are bright    I move backwards from wedding to wash room

unzip like a zip file     looking for sugar on coffee spoons

I stare into eye blue shade    short blonde cup    I accelerate     fear in rear view mirror

I    

leave

 Miley            I

leave                    I

*

By  night I float away on a washboard           somewhere off the coast of Chile

starlight on my tongue    the blue whales dancing                             gracefully under the

 voodoo moon

the wind wets my lips    my lips    in retreat    worlds are moving

through my hair    my hands are becoming smaller

 paintings fall from halls     a silent plague flutters over Beverley hills, o

n the rocks

French liqueur    long legs

Mickey mouse    gun songs

pyt. me

 'where are we going?'

pyt. she:

'aucune idée'

I send a letter to myself

                                     the letter arrives at my feet

                                                                           my feet send the letter to me

*

“The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike”

Marlowe – Dr Faustus

the lights are bright    I rip up the lights    everything in everything

garden bird sing

sherbet morning blow out and spread

wing    garden bird sing

time unties the beach at midnight    black cloak    black eye shadow    black eyes    followed by no one I board a train in darkness    the train moves my body backwards

  I find myself in a shed of broken statues                             all are awaiting

repair                 younger

I am     a boy in a sunflower hat             trilling the fields

marching through a kingdom of apples and oats

my dog wears a muzzle of rare velvet

death in my fingernails

I reverse down the ravine    owls fly backwards    until where I am a baby

cuckooing under the astral map     my parents melt the material of ghost particles

 I am unborn   

 I give myself to the universe     lick my blue wounds

when I am ready      

I zoom back into Miley's eyes.

—Charlie Baylis