So you stared at the hourglass and counted
For all that it was worth, for every grain that fell
What exactly are you trying to achieve?

Drunken nights and empty parlours
Bottomless glasses and dusted shelves
you look in the mirror and see what bloodshot eyes can see
blurred lines and skewed vision from your lack of depth and ability to perceive

You watch the clock make it’s way around once then again
More like you’re on a boat in the middle of the sea
lost at will and on course to the places you’ve never been
And the places you least wanted to be

Live inside the walls of your mind
They’ve carved you out so well you could be a pumpkin on All Hallows Eve
Everything that used to be a part of you was simply tossed out the window to feed the starving crows

I see that your heart is bleeding again but no amount of gauze will swallow the pain
You can stare at the mirror for hours trying to love the parts of you that you hate

But they’ll never see the rotten parts of you that you see so clearly

The walls are closing in again


Don’t lose hope


                               Don’t lose hope



                                                         ­      Don’t lose hope

(m.e.)

We just swallow & stitch on
flimsy pharmaceutical feathers,
with gobs of spit and wax.

We circle the sun
hoping this simulacrum,
weighs more than a hedon

We practice ephemeral mechanics,
only with bridges on the river Styx,
then wonder why winter never seems to end.

Night raids on Salt End
were legendary… It were a
giant chemical works with ship docks,
silos, storage tanks, fuel dumps,
an ideal 'drop off point' for Gerry…

But Salt End plant’s night raids
on Hedon Road
weren’t gonna daunt our lot,
they lived a mile or so down the lane to Preston
and seemed unafraid of gerri’n shot.

But they built a shelter across’t main road
in a field… On the outside It were a haystack
within the walls, six foot thick… proper beds
on hay bails to the front and back... cosy.

Down the middle was a ‘lounge’ with chairs,
lights, a radio - electric run from’t big ‘ouse
It’s better than being at’ome our Charlie used to say
For the eldest (and the architect) he’d not much nowse.

Me mam (then 19) told me she bussed it into Hull
“****** the Doodlebugs” She needed Jitterbugs…
and they still danced at City Hall.
******* to Gerry and his mates.
Margie & her pal René,
dauntless, they had a right ball!

Last Bus to ‘Withernsea’ from town
dropped her off at the junction
by the Speedway on Hedon Road.
Just as her way was lit by fire bombs - all about
when Gerry dropped his final unaimed load
Maybe ack-ack’d sort him out.

She was 2 miles from home… every few seconds another blast.
Scuttling …dodging whistling incendiaries,
running fast, whippet like…
any second could’ve been her last
anything too close she’d have to jump in't ****.

She couldn’t mek it t’t shelter or house so picked
the coal shed - instead… threw herself down
on coals…noise lifted - silence dawned… all clear
heavy breathing - not hers -  she wan’t alone
What if it’s one of them - a downed ***** airman.

Nervous, terrified more like she let out a little shudder
a gentle cough… to test her nerve
“Is that you Margie?… You daft ******!”
It were brother Tom… He’d been t’t Nags Head
and he’d run the opposite way from the village instead.

i once was young and brave like you
and i had dreams of triumph too
this foolish son
then hurt someone
and i did run, but what in to

he was a shepherd on his way
to find a lamb then gone astray
and i intrigued
so well believed
the tale of need he did convey

but as we searched about the glen
a dreaded feeling pierced my skin
a stranger’s hands
and strange demands
to r’move the bands and take him in

i did not understand the lie
and so he looked me in the eye
to make me see
the friend that he
would be to me if i’d comply

I never had known things before
to be so backwards or so sore
but, i obeyed
and he repaid
my wish to aid by taking more

and that is how the world has been
so little left to make me grin
except to see
young man to be
and so shall he share my chagrin

so, here we stand, alone and frail
both victims of this telling tale
and I undone
and you my son
your time has come to now unveil

the beast from whom all men descend
will come today to bring an end
to the hedon who
has followed through
on his promise to deceive and wrend

Screaming ***** & Volumes of joys ungiven
An uneasy joint & The Waste made to happen
For lost Hedon & pleasures untaken.

...

So,
You, are a high one free of those burdens
A woman of the real and true garden of Eden.
Call me then, and if in Eros you're a brethren,
I'll find a quick way out of the shackles of this den.

lead me on my way,
Great Vision in the grey,
I do not ponder on wasted time
I do not wander, I do not stay

I get by on my hedon wage
my story fits on one page
I am not burdened by freedom
release me from this cage

wise, the living tree
it catches wind with ease
meanwhile I'm in the clouds
by just the slightest breeze

Friday night, half five. Offices, factories,
fish docks, shops’d unload…
Pan-stick applied, lippy, slap, fresh scent…
ancient Brits in finest 'warpaint' woad.
Oxford Bags, double breasted jacket, 10 ****,
Brilliantine and Brylcreem.
The Hull to Withernsea train stood ready
with a full head of steam.

The preened, the pummed - the chancers, romancers…
loves young dreamers, the loved up dancers - .
Laden with laughter, the Friday night
‘With’ Special lurches out of Hull…
15 miles of glistening steel…
an escape route from the drudge, the cludge,
to ‘Crazy Night’ chances of a naughty weekend.
It’s anything but dull…      

Paragon to Scullcoates,
Southcoates & Marfleet
the carriages already full to burstin’
and the wackiness awaits.
Hedon Speedway, Rye Hill
and Burstwick trundling by…
Hedonists through Hedon’s Gate
sleepy Patrington, Hollym… With!

Piling off the platform toward digs
and guest house fun, stuffed weekend bags…
A thruppeny bit to the sack truck boy
and one of your precious ****.
We’re carousing down the street,
half the city must be here
and the feeling… well it’s reet!
Gagging for a beer - but first…

“Ooh, Mr & Mrs Smith is it?”…
the landlady asks with a knowing wink.
Bags in, **** out - into The Alex  for a drink…
before tripping to The Queen’s and 'Crazy Night!'
Tuppence and a jam jar (don’t ask) gets you in
and it’s mayhem - out of sight!
What a din! Lively band, cheap drinks… what a night!

Girls giggle in gaggles,
dancing round their bags…
The lads... a beer, a laugh, a leer
and passing round the ****.
The whole of Hull turns out in our With
on a summer’s Friday night.
1935… the town’s throbbing…
will it, ever again, see the like?

Today, I learned that when you touched me
My brain was still developing
In its ability to think long-term.

Today, I learned that I have persistent post-traumatic stress,
And that I cannot ever freely speak of what occurred
Without blue and red lights flashing
And slashing
Through your life
And mine.
So today, I felt your fingers again
I heard your breath replace my own
My body is, at most,
an autonomy forgotten
In the violent aftermath of your love.

Today, I hurt a perfect lover,
Who cannot taste the blood you made
Still wasting away, wrought between my hips
I was a young girl but, for you, I cursed the world
Cast myself into exile from those you said
Didn’t love me
Like you did
On that day

On that day
The sun blushed itself away into dusk
And I watched as I washed away
down the drain
The dripping dregs
Of what you’d craved, captured
And completely consumed
From me

Today, I know you willed my worship unto you
Because secrets from God
are worth dying for
when the suffering feels religious
and the pains feel like prayers
and the truth hurts so bad that I can’t
even think about it
alone
at home
with my eyes closed.

When 90 pounds wasn’t enough
And 90 days went by in a blur
And 90% out of the time  
My heartrate was 190 beats per minute

What there may be left to say
Is lost to my ebbing hedon’s memory
I let all the shades of you crash away
Evaporate the ocean of
a badly bruised mind
now left with little more
than terrified questions

When my back was pressed against
The paneling,
My soma was reified into
woman
And I threw my arms around your neck
and lost my sobbing to the friction
it burned so hot and sharp
and it smelled like bleach
as you ****** me
as we dangled
in that ****** metal box
You licked away my tears then
When you consumated this pain
for your *******
and I only wanted your embrace when
You licked my tears away

But its
Cold water on an old burn now
Your fingers, drenched in me then
Pried into my porcelain
Your love tasted like pennies and
It’s never left my tongue

Maybe it was your
Reddened thoughts that made you
Beat the color into me
Beat this sadness into me
But that was a long time ago.

I know what to do to help myself
so why don't I do it?
My laziness is getting in the way again
Why don't I find motivation to push it back?
I feel trapped with the exit right in front of me
so why don't I escape?
I am a glutton, a hedon, a sloth, a wraith
And I continue to sin
What can I do?