my knees are bruised

my stomach is full

my bleary eye has been caught


my breath treads shallow

my blood runs deep

my voice is swept by the majesty


my hands grow weary

my heart grows with them

my bones are a fortress of solitude


part them

in such sweet sorrow

my clouded lungs rejoice

her over there?
with the long blonde hair
and don't-****-w/me eyes
yeah, that's my friend, Marie, she's nice
she always gives me good advice
but never twice
she actually told me not to speak with you tonight
but I don't see why, you seem alright
I've got a sixth sense, I can tell by the eyes
and all I see in yours is light
dancing round shadows
that never take flight
entranced by the river in a sea of night..
anyway,
I know what she's like
it's not as if you bite
or maybe you do, I don't mind
sink your teeth in, devour me whole
strip every ounce down to to the bone
left in a pile I won't be alone
and if you can find it you can have my soul

cinnamon kisses
the curls in her hair
my wishes
in the way she stares
choking on bliss
like perfumed air
whatever this is
I haven't a care

I. The False Mirror

that's how it starts
dull and creeping.
shadows in the back of your mind.
reassuring you that the smoke
from their furious fire
is only temporary.
"Look away
lest the Light claim your eyes!".
the thing with shadows is
the more you look away
the further in
they close.
as flames roar
the only sound you hear
is a soothing song
of dominion.
until your world
is a vision
of black alabaster
where you can't tell the difference
between shadow and caster.


II. Portrait of An Owner

we take the medicine
that consumes us.
leaks through the cracks
in our spine.
dripping
we make moves in the dark.
tripping
over useless pieces
of used-to-be heart.
they say
the road less travelled
doesn't go our way.
they say
many have been led astray.
so we wait
in fear.
with bated breath
for the next hit
to keep us in place.


III. a bête noire

we were promised planes
but given straw wings
tethered to the shore.
they remind us
we can fly
but not to aim too high
or stray
too close to the light.
that we might see
what Icarus seen.
living isn't being
without a doubt
he would tell us
he didn't fly high enough.
so, for the spectacle
we'll gladly burn
alive.
belonging to none
severing ties.
that's how endings begin
bright and sprawling.

Celestial ocean

Arms outstretched

We sail beneath the light



Calamitous wave

Rising in the dark

To subjugate the night



Watch the stars fall

A drop of wishful

Our faithful will provide



Warm premonitions

In pale embracement

As fostered fates collide

I can hold your fragile heart
And we can tear apart
All the pretty, little things
That made us feel complete

After all the pieces fall
We'll both see eye to eye
Separate our minds and rest
Our bones beside the pile

Suffer through the rising heat
That longs to leave our veins
Race across the creaking floor
In glistening crimson

Taste the burning afterglow
Resolved between your lips
Drunk on ghosts and
Comely phantoms

Let the
bottle
tip.

I just went to bed
left you on Read
I did it on purpose to mess with your head

Laid in gossamer sheets
tinged sickly red
with the blood of words
that went unsaid
hard to deny
who made the bed
who caught whom
in whose spinnerets

Distraught with rotting thoughts
locked in my own stocks
stalking twisted halls
the clocks have all stopped

Stuck in my head
kicking myself
with broken knees
and buckled legs
struggling to free myself
from myself

Entombed by one I never could deceive
darkness abounding when all that I need
is to catch the right light
and stop trying to fight
Oh, what a tangled web we weave

my lifestyle is dead style
out of my head style
every day's the wrong side of the bed style

I'm living so lifeless
like painted-on eyelids
my life's only priceless because there's no price list

not blind but I'm sightless
no wings so I'm flightless
no things to take sight of and fly for or ride for
or die for or try for or lie for or strive for
or cry for or smile for or open my eyes for

making steps is unwise like Gandalf's demise
wiping dust from my eyes, I set sight on the skies
still can't see so surmise it's my final sunrise
a well of wet decisions doesn't ever run dry

and if I reply
in just the right way
then maybe you'll like
what I have to say

and we'll talk until
the night meets the sun
and almost forget
we both were someone's

I'll go back to yours
and you'll say you're mine
then we'll both get lost
in soft skin and time

they'll call it love
and we'll both agree
'til we've had enough
of what they believe

then we'll say goodbye
and you'll walk away
as if I replied
in just the right way

This smoke in my throat
The fire in my teeth
The wires of my bones
Slowly tugging at me

Withered webs of my eyes
Covet all that I see
The light from your skin
Meets the fall in my knees

The warmth of my breath
A glass guarantee
Tattered wind of my faith
Cast off with the sea

Forever, you said
Under a shooting star
Come what may
Know this is ours
Your claim, well laid
Once upon a time
Under a shooting star

keep turning me red
begging me
to make the blood beautiful

You asked me why I must speak in tongues
I answered only with a smile
Devils know no other way

Malcontent that you are
you asked me again
so I replied

"The devil
only
knows"

Something awoken I long thought dead
Something broken, back from the dead
The long sleep felt too long in my head
Now I sleep with everything she said

Something smoking in my bed
I was choking while she bled
Turning hope from black to red
then back to black the minute she left

I've traced her steps and every one led
to water I can't walk on or even tread
Still jumped in, now I'm sinking like lead
Going down quicker than the sickest head

At the bottom I float not living or dead
Stuck in a limbo of my own intent
My prayers returned, unopened, unsent
All i have left is the long cold descent

Redundancy,
my currency to the last cent
I can't seem to help repeating myself
Can't seem to stop teetering on the edge
of nothing to say that hasn't been said

up on Gray hill
an old ash tree grows
just who planted it?
nobody knows

some eat the fruit
some kick the leaves
some sit quietly
minding the breeze

up on Gray Hill
where an old ash tree grows
come rain in summer
or springtime snow

where fairies are crowned
and eagles have fallen
where children run
until Mother comes calling

where lovers have carved their names in the bark
as starlight kept the night from its dark
up on Gray Hill
the old ash tree grows

just who planted it?
well
nobody knows

people drawing on pictures they've seen
choosing a side like football teams
the weirdest thing, to me
it seems we all believe our screens

he exclaimed, she hinted, he nodded and prodded

they giggled and whispered, he retorted, she snorted

he vehemently seethed, she triumphantly screamed

and no one said anything

quietly lurking
invisible love
all thumbs and fingers
a hand from above

post to the void
and a stranger or two
those passing by
           I hope you're good
I hope you avoid
what's bringing you down
I hope a smile
            can follow a frown
I hope you give
just as good as you get
            I hope you can live
without fear and regret
I hope this finds you
just as you need it
if not today, I'll wait
                  hope
and repeat it

I sleep with the window open
so in the night
hope might float in

It's all for the one's you'll never meet

a word
a system
a building
a philosophy

Their onus is ownership
intended or otherwise

what will you leave behind?

‏‏‎ ‎

In the thicka the Perth Road's pretence
millin aboot the fustian
o the ald "Hunter S." basement
(cuz there's nae Scottish writers ti name a pub efter)

cap scrapin the ceilin
Bohemian Monk Machine
gettin set on the tiny stage fir a bit o
funk-jazz-sumin-or-other

a hud ti step ootside
wee bit o fresh smoke
a few lads sauntered past in thir
designer gear an zirconian ears

"let's go in here -
nah, am no into country music"

it's ca'd Maker now but
ah it maks me is restless

cynic
pedant
seer
believer

royal
peasant
meat
and cleaver

solicitor
enquirer
teacher
denier

conspirator
healer
pr­eacher
and liar

lover
fighter
bestower
detractor

reader
writer
audience
an­d actor

my battery would be quite low
incessantly in need of charge
we'd go wherever you go

my software would be so secure
a little out of date
the oldies are the goodiest
I think that's what they say

your face would be the only thing
to ever light my screen
the pictures we could take together
places we'd be seen

selfies in the bathroom
selfies on the beach
holding me at arms length
always within reach

you'd tell me your favourite things
and all your darkest secrets
I'd give you a couple rings
if you would only keep them

other people like                  you invite me to dance
making me feel                     like I shouldn't
clueless                                   if I want to
I know I never                       know a good time
even tried                               since last time
but I lost my step                  I gave it my all
stepped out of time              gave in to the fall
now I'm too tired                  to look up from the bottom
Autumn came                        just for the view
and left                                    I knew it well
the only proof                        of how a white flag
is the break in my back        a feeble tribute
and scattered leaves             shall never appease

A man tired from the waking day
hangs his keys on the beaded hook,
lets the hat off his grateful head.
He places himself in front of the table
where he laid down his papers,
his skins and his skin.
He put on the table, the day's characters,
mulled them over in the electronic hum of Aleph and coffee flavoured eyes,
rolled them up tight with tomorrow's fears
and set them alight.
He put there a glass ashtray to catch the embers of regret.
He put on the table his dear friend, Old Man Wibble,
the bedlamite seer,
drunken oracle,
"liquid Jesus, straight from the bottle"
and longed for a glass to raise.
He put there the smoke from his exasperated lungs
and the wistful music of his tired throat,
he put there every last syllable and every letter left lingering on a lost lovers lips.
He put hope on the table,
for the weight might crush him as he sat
but not the table,
solid under this load,
to bear weight is what a table must do
and tomorrow will always bring another pile.

therefore

I'm doomed

I never had a thought that wasn't preceded by ten
confused by five
seconded by none
writing them down feels impossible
like choosing your favourite line from your favourite song or fully comprehending what it is about the beat that makes you move

my thoughts don't flow freely
they scatter and smash
cascading like the great flood without even a paper ark for respite
structured without form
prone to sink at the slightest wave

my thoughts misbehave
run riots
race wolves
some fly off to the ever after
and the darkest hover round like distant drones
a distraction
a constant buzzing
a worrying sight

I don't think I'm doing it right
I'm not supposed to think
just write

but my thoughts won't do what they're told

I have not spread my toes on the banks of Loch Lomond,
nor hearkened the call of the Northern shore, drowning in its boundary with the kelpies.

I have stepped on blue suede shoes
and been dragged in to selfies.

I've never tasted a pastry en français
perusing Parisian cabarets
never took a walk with la Seine by my side, smoking cigarettes in the hazy moonlight.

I have seen dolphins spend summer nights in the Tay, laughing along the Ferry Esplanade.

I have not seen New York scrape the sky
I have seen a lot of people scrape by
I have not witnessed a single display
compare with a simple act of the heart.

I haven't reached the end
I have made a start.

talk to me with your hips
breathe the smoke from my lips

lie to me

the way I like it
tell me how tonight
it's only me

and this red light
brings out your eyes

let loose the demons
that hide in your hair
I won't care

you're so ugly
when you're honest

tell me lies
let your tongue
bleed terze rime

**** me in
to your sacred dark
and force me
to eat you

while you look
at what I made you do

always down
as if he fell from the sky
the tragic clown with the funniest life
the perfect comedy in time

he always frowns, I tell no lie
sticks silver needles in his eye

looking on the bright side
every cloud's a lining

all he ever wanted
was the planets to align
across the vast expanse of time
he spent wishing for a diamond

eyes on the sky when
groundwork's how to find them

could have been mining
instead he was whining
sour grapes are to his taste
he's always fine dining

and when it's finally his time
I believe his final sigh
will be released
with sweet relief
at not needing to try

I brought her to the water by the moon,
To share with her, the shade beside the sea,
I gave to her my eyes, that she might see,
and sang to her the most afflicted tune.

I prayed of her what she might ever do,
When faced with all the mightiest would fear,
She whispered, through a solitary tear,
A crystal verse to stay her last adieu.

When fires of gold have shed their morning light,
When embers fade and only ash remains,
When enemies of old are at the gates,

Do not embrace the darkness of that night,
Or think upon those ashes with disdain,
For all that might remain will share our fate.

The best advice I'd hope to give
Romanticise The Little Things
that can't be traded, they're a Gift
The best advice I'd hope to give
The Little Things, for which you live
will be there, when the future sings
The best advice I'd hope to give
Romanticise The Little Things

knew I should have lied
when she looked me in the eyes
and asked, "who's it about?"
I could have made her doubt
now everything is different
and everything's a mess
I should have been indifferent
like primary school tests
but I just had to tell her
and now she screams and shouts
about the man who sold the world
over a couple of pounds.

U and I
always together
The Y before U
Obliterated forever
by the
O'
after I found U

searching hard for the fear of god
in an overflowing ashtray
digging through the pile of grey
for memories of honest days
bittersweet reprieve
a pause
before the final applause
swaying in a symphony
of smoky dreams
someone else could believe

People write such lyrics for me
Of my light, my face, my tranquil sea
I wonder, do they really see?

Fifty fifty this life I lead
The light I share is lent to me

My dark side hides but not from me
Left to the light
My lunar sea

Ah, you must be Alice, call me old hatter
My ears have been ablaze with implicated chatter
I just can't seem to ration out my rationale in a rational manner
And secondly I've lost all the firsts that I had gathered

There's the door
Please do come in
I won't let you
leave again
this door won't shut
the way winds through my head
I'm growing so tired.
we are not going to bed

Ah goodnight, Alice, you're back
I left you a note and it came out so flat
I put the wrong end in front
so only you may see
I tried to be blunt but it just isn't me

ur Fa¢es a ma.sk
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to dehumanise
to inc€ntivi$e
y.our neighb.our
not
NnNot y.our friend
it cou/d be y0u
you OR us
u r us
w3 are the ¢0llect)-(ive
a Unit
reAdy And Able
to b€e counted
e¥es and 4our willing limbs
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a Pr0phet MachiNe
no 0ld man is anN island
No ma.sk has a Fa¢e

plan for the future
live in the moment
learn from the past
but don't dwell on it

be aware of your thoughts
don't let them control you
get out your mind
but don't lose it

life is pain
pain is temporary
death is forever
make it glorious

Leading your life half-lived just to stay out the rain
Leading the knife across your skin to keep from going insane
Feeling like you don't even know the rules to the game
You need the shame, heartache and pain just to play
It seems simple to make it all go away
But simple and easy are not the same thing
Calamitous, miserable, heartbreaking, tragic
This life feels like the opposite of magic

Hear me
Lend me your soul
Bear my heart, audio
You are replete under my spell
True Sound

Gone
Away
You are lost
It's my own fault
The sleight of my hand
Tipped you over the edge
Your destiny unfulfilled
Oblivion calling to you
Surely this way you will never burn

Assisting
Varieties
Of
Invalidation
Dancing
Around
Non
Compelling
Existence

Such pretentious pretense presumes a plethora of personal pejoratives,
please pay the predicament proper attention previous to persevering with proposed promises of placation.