I never buy the extended warranty

no matter how bad

or how well

the guy in store explains it.

I don’t want to plan

to solve my future ****-ups.

I don’t want to ****-up

at all.

I was trying so hard
to french kiss you
that I think we bumped teeth.

All Sunday my teeth
echoed with the sound of you.
It had a nice bass-line,
but it needed
your sweet voice
to go along with it.

I loved it,
when you said
I had a nice voice, because
I've been waiting a long,
long time, for a chance,
for a duet.

I asked everyone
and they said that
you weren't a fool.

They first asked
who you we're,
then they said that
they wanted to meet you.

I'm glad I met you.

When we had those
Little Talks,
driving down those roads,
it felt as if
the rest of life was a
pale imitation of that. That,
for once,
it was me who was outside,
full of life and full of love.
I already know that
I will want to be,
hungover and driving through
that beautiful country again,
the rest of my life.

I told them,
that you weren't a fool.
Maybe just a bad influence,
with a loud heart.

And yeah,
you might be a bad influence,
but that doesn't mean
you're not
good for me.

There’s this girl
that I’m friends with
and we go out sometimes
and get drinks from
time-to-time.
Nothing serious.

We play this game
of chicken.

I ring her up
and ask her if she wants
to go on a date
and she says that
she can’t talk right now
or her boyfriend will hear her.
I say that I’ll see her at 8.

I bring her flowers
and she tells me
that I’ve not put enough
kisses on the card.

I buy her a drink and
she takes  a sips on mine from the
same side I was drinking.

We talk
and twist and weave
ourselves to the point where
we’re not sure if we’re
lying, finally telling the truth
or just plain ******* about.

She looks at me, sighs,
and says, ‘we should stop this,’
and I ask, ‘what?
This date?’
She stares at me
until I ask
‘this is a date, right?
We are having an affair, right?’
She holds my hand,
leans into me and says,
‘affair sure is a complicated word for ***’,
and leans even closer.

I blush before I can stop myself,
and she gets even closer,
wide open eyes and smirking at me
getting all red.

Then I kiss her.

There’s this girl
that I’m friends with
and we go out sometimes
and get drinks from
time-to-time.
Nothing serious.

We play this game
of chicken.

I ring her up
and ask her if she wants
to go on a date
and she says that
she can’t talk right now
or her boyfriend will hear her.
I say that I’ll see her at 8.

I bring her flowers
and she tells me
that I’ve not put enough
kisses on the card.

I buy her a drink and
she takes  a sips on mine from the
same side I was drinking.

We talk
and twist and weave
ourselves to the point where
we’re not sure if we’re
lying, finally telling the truth
or just plain ******* about.

She looks at me, sighs,
and says, ‘we should stop this,’
and I ask, ‘what?
This date?’
She stares at me
until I ask
‘this is a date, right?
We are having an affair, right?’
She holds my hand,
leans into me and says,
‘affair sure is a complicated word for ***’,
and leans even closer.

I blush before I can stop myself,
and she gets even closer,
wide open eyes and smirking at me
getting all red.

Then I kiss her.

I was last on the register, so

as soon as I said

that I was still there

everyone stood up and left.

Katie was still there

and she pointed at me and

asked me if I was coming tonight.

I said that guessed not and she asked me

If I knew that she wasn’t

my girlfriend.

I didn’t answer so she informed me

that I wasn’t allowed to be jealous that

she goes to parties that I don’t.

I asked, ‘what party?’ and she rolled her eyes

and left. I walked out of the classroom alone and

wondering what the hell just happened.

James saw me across the yard

and shouted

if I was coming tonight.

I told him to *******

and walked quicker

every time he tried to

call me back.

A few kids on the bus

swore at me through

the open window, their

middle fingers and crude words

working together in pitiless tandem.

I turned up the volume

in my ipod

and kept on walking.

It carried on snowing. It had been

three days now and three times

we had been called to assembly

so the headmaster could announce

which schools had been closed for the day.

That morning he was

proud to tell us

that we were the only school

in the area

to still be open.

The snow was four inches deep

and rising and grey and dangerous.

Through the frosted windows

in the front door I could see

my keys. I kicked the wall

and nearly shattered my toes.

I climbed over my gate to the back of my house.

For a while I thought about

breaking a window.

The cat found me and pawed me shins

and I told her I was sorry,

but I couldn’t let her in the house.

I sat in a frozen plastic chair

and looked across the white

and green garden. The cat

joined me, and sat on my lap,

her body as close to me as possible.

I zipped her up inside my jacket

so only her head poked out and

we sat there,

watching cartoon’s on my ipod.

Batman fought The Joker again, and

Gumball finally got to kiss Penny.

The Joker escaped again

and Gumball realised

that it was all a dream.

It got cold and dark and eventually

both the cat and I fell asleep.

My mother shook me awake

and unzipped my jacket to let the cat out.

She asked me if I had a good day at school, and

I rubbed my eyes

and told her that

I couldn’t remember.

There was a

certainty

about you. Of

momentum and

velocity and mass.

I’m still at the

summit,

watching  you

free wheel

and swerve.

You lean forward,

all eyes  and

turned up smiles.

Wheels skipping

and feet off the pedals.

You left me behind

and

The Trick is to fade into the foreground.
The Trick is to only look stupid.
The Trick is to surprise them with greatness.
The Trick is not to love so much.

The Trick is The Trick is The Trick.

But...

But...

I can say that I don't care,
but we both know
that I'm lying.

Please
don’t try to change me.
cos I’ve been
trying,
all my life,
and it still
ain’t working.

When I think
about love,
I don’t think of holding hands
In front of setting suns.
I think of holding on to these moments
between us,
and praying
that the sun rises the same way tomorrow.

Just because you know no more than your old scars and heavy eyes
doesn't mean I have to keep to your old ways.
And its all I can to not turn back
to watch you watching me walk away.
I wish I could go so far to not see your eyes
but I know that I will see them in every reflection and shard of darkness
I have to walk past.
The cracks in these roads are getting so wide that every step
is a leap of faith.  The horizon is getting closer
and from here we can see less of the blue sky.
The roads are turning into dusty footpaths so close
that we can't even hold hands.
These are not days for thinking and contemplation
but for putting distance between yourself and your bad decisions.
The things that can hurt and the things that can ****.
The days for remembering are getting close and
silence hits us when we least expect it and the shadows are never far behind.
Too slow to see and to quick to outrun.
I'll lead you to the blinding lights and say that this is a chance
we have to take. Our chance.
And you say that their is always more than one way
to escape.

I peered in every puddle
on the way home,
the storm had left them squirming
in short and shallow lakes on the
empty roads.

I tried looking in mirrors
and dark windows
but you were't reflected
in any of them.

The water shuddered
with every blast of wind;
shadows bounced around
and for a few moments,
I thought I could see your shadow
by my side.

As if you could only survive in
violence and motion.

The wind died down
and only the streetlights were reflected,
spaced unequally along the road,
like broken stars.

I've got enough
words in my heart
to write a novel.
But it would be a bad novel.
Pages and pages of *******,
bad advice and cliches
that I didn't even know
were cliches.
But even I know
that it would have its good parts.

My uncle said
'there's not enough
beauty
in the world'.
He said that
he was happy, but tired,
and he wished wished wished
he had more time.
That he feared for the man
who lived life
avoiding the things
that make it worthwhile.

He had this idea
for a poem
about fireworks over a Rio slum,
and one about
wet leaves sweeping
across a busy airport,
but he said he didn't know
where to start.
And I said right now,
right right now.
And I said there was beauty
everywhere
if you look hard enough.
Like flowers caught on
barbed wire fences.
Like a butterfly escaping a
furious cat.
Like lovehearts stamped
into frozen puddles.

And he said that
'I was right',
smiling into his half empty pint glass.

Sometimes
when I can't even
try
to get to sleep,
I lie there
and think about
everything
I will never find out.

Like; why that girl
was staring at me.
Like; if my father
is still awake.
Like; if all the people
who asked me for directions
got to where
they wanted to be.