I am tired of caring
To love is exhausting
Yet love awakes me
I want loving to be easy
Like it was before
I knew what it was
And I want to love you
Like I did before
I knew who you were
Everything is inside me
Yet this everything is really
A nothingness
And it overflows
Into the ink on the page
Yet it is only a shadow, a copy
A copy of the emptiness
And now I just have
Two lots of zero
Which is still nothing
And I am tired
And I am caring
And I am not
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
I am the bads deliverer
And i deliver bads.
I deliver all the things that disappoint you, make you mad.
I drive my van right to your door, and arrive just as you leave
So i write a 'collect later' note impossible to read.
I deliver all the products that just aren't quite what you ordered,
Like a t-shirt just one size too small, or a photo wrongly bordered,
I miss one meal off your takeaway, give you beef instead of prawn,
I tell you 'between 9 and 12' and then arrive at four,
I fill a van with fragile things then hit every speed bump;
But the worst thing that I've ever done is deliver Donald Trump
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 5:07 PM UTC
I want to write the right words
But they all sound the same
And all mean nothing.
We have not invented the words
To describe the nothing I feel
That is not quite nothing
Not quite something
A full emptiness
An overflowing hole
The words aren't coming out write
Right
Write
All useless
All empty
All wrong
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
i ache for you
when drunk,
when the boundaries
i have built
melt and fall apart
you are all i think about.
all i can do is
melt and fall apart.
when drunk,
i ache for you.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
a life without art
is not a life at all.
in my life, i can only
love other people's art
i can only
love other people's lives
my life
is not a life at all.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
Today, I am the feeling of falling, the
jolt of the unrealised last step
on the staircase.
I
Feel myself sliding
down a sheer cliff
face, and turning
my face away from
all of the hand
holds and foot hold
s that could save
me the fall.
Below me is the river, the one
you see in films, where the
crocodiles snap and scream and
the waves are shrieking too,
where the jagged, toothed rocks are reaching
up with their barbed fingers,
they pierce the air with vows to catch the fallen
and the hero can't hold on
for much longer.
But even though i try to shape these words into the silhouette of my descent, they only seem a shallow, shadow-shape i cannot make cement; and shadows cannot beat a heart with violent fear and fierce torment as my heart beats.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC
my heart, my heart,
it beats, and beats,
and beats around my aching chest,
my empty chest
like some cathedral
ruin'd by time like all the rest
where stained glass windows,
scarce intact,
let in the light and make it shine
and echo 'round
the hallowed halls
and sing like some old hymn divine -
and i just need
to find the words
of this old hymn, and write them down
and shape them into poetry,
so that the lark can free be flown
but all the words i write are wrong
my aching, empty, ruined words
are clanging 'round my chest like bells,
they smash the silence, break the spell,
and yet my heart, my heart, still screams
the notes of songs I cannot sing
they screech within my chest and, though i sing,
i cannot seem to bring the notes
onto the empty page;
the page is full and still i sigh.
and so my heart will shout and scream
and beat until i die.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC
It's on days like these,
When the sky is a cloud,
That I wish I could sit
For a bit
In the sky-
And watch from a cloud
How the days go by;
How the world goes round,
And why people die.
It wouldn't be easy
Amongst all the chaos
To find any meaning
Or reason or rhyme.
Perhaps that is why
I decide to write poems;
My words all have meaning
And some of them rhyme!
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
I am, myself, an ocean.
My skin the thing on which I float,
The boat I have to travel in.
The winds are strong, and threatening
To pull me in, my little boat
Is leaking, creaking, not too long
Before I join the others
In the depths so far below.
I see their faces still, the wrecks.
The beck of land called them to death
For land is harsh, and sharp, and land
Does not provide for things you keep
Within your oceans, vast, and deep.
For I had kept a multitude
Of dreams and hopes, I wept for them
When land required they walked on legs,
And breathe with lungs they did not have.
They beckon me with marble eyes,
Towards the skies and shores of land,
But I know I can only live
Inside the ocean that I am.
But in this ocean there are things-
Dull, singing things like funeral bells,
Old memories, regrets, mistakes,
Whose weight is all too much to bear
For all the statues buried there.
They show the world, I have their eyes,
The sun may rise but it is dull,
Not singing, silenced by the sea
That ebbs and flows so steady in me.
The sun may rise but I am cold,
My boat already leaks, and mould
Has grown within this boat so long
I've already scraped and cut the skin
And let the murky water in -
And I would like to drown.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 4:59 PM UTC
your scent is draped around my room
like fairy lights, my love;
they shine as bright as stars at night (how
darkness makes faint lights shine bright)
as bright as sun above.
remember how my skin would glow
in early morning haze?
reflecting off your sunlight heat
(your skin like cigarette smoke, sweet)
upon me you would gaze
and, like a gazania daisy,
i opened up to you (oh all
the things i told you
i think i must have told you
everything)
and now without your sunlight i
close up like daisies do.
my lips still taste your lips, though,
my hands still hold your hands;
my fingers close around themselves-
(i’m closing in upon myself
oh god, why aren’t you here to hold me?
i’m falling through like sand
into the bottom of
an hourglass)
i walk through these strange lands
(alone.)
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC