I know that you and me are done,
But I think and I think, and I cannot move on.
I try to fit with the metre, to churn out the pattern
Of a beating heart or a dulling thud,
But it’s too slow, it’s too ******* empty
********* sweet haunter, I’m boiling in blood,
I am lost, and weeping, and beyond and above,
And always without you, my dear ******* love.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC
At the start, in discovery, everything is rosy.
You, sun, you made me so happy,
I laughed and smiled and was all that I could be,
And we lasted awhile and I felt free, free, free.
But now I don’t know.
When he, my friend,
(Oh it’s us until the end?)
Is such a long way to go.
Is as far as that stone’s throw:
From my mountain top, hurled,
Across the pond - the world -
Into fire.
This grenaded-life we lead together,
-But I taste nothing in this water-wine-
We will storm it now, we’ll weather, whether
In the end we melt, or in the end, we’re fine.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
As we wanted to burn the world
Inside our heads, I looked up at the sky,
And I said:
Why not this always? A hazy mind,
Thick and full and sloshing around
With yeasty-beer;
Why not all the time?
But here, when the stars are gone, now,
All it is is emptiness. And I realise that those tears,
The sobbing on their shoulders, none of it can help.
Because the only thing I want is what causes this
In the first; the emptiness would be full,
But only if the sun could see us both,
Through the same fiery eye.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
It’s hard when I feel like
I want to rip out my own throat, let
The blood gush and mix
With the salt.
When my mind cracks and I sob,
Or when I am filled with
A rush of anger, fury, fiery bitterness
At you and this and every ******* thing.
It’s hard when I sleep in the bed
Where you slept. When I lie on the sofa,
‘Red Couch’ where we once lay:
That other girl and you, together.
(the hardest word is never)
It’s hard when I look around at my life
And wonder at what I am now.
Skimming the surface,
Treading this swampy water.
Always tired,
Though I never drown.
And it’s hard when I feel nothing.
When I cannot remember your touch,
When memories
Are just a film I watch.
(I think we died in that ******* airport eight months ago.)
Because after near two years of something so **** real,
When it is over,
I cannot feel.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
Something’s stirring
- hey honey, sweetie, sugar-
Something’s ******* up and in, like their stomachs,
(why don’t I look that flat, mummy?)
Something’s furious and seething, something strong
And stuck and breathing
My bones in. It’s the *** you see, yeah you bet,
All they are is *** sweaty, oily, wet
With some such suffocating, suffering, surrendering
Desire to please.
Please the man, the thick man, with your eyes.
Please him with your deadened stare – glare -
Please him with your chest, your hair,
Feel the way that wind rustles and tousles, as you dance,
As you feel the liberation of a thrusty, ***** pleasing stance,
As they slip money between your legs. As they wrap you up, up,
Up in its crinkles, up in its arms,
Swept from your feet and in love, swept up from harm,
Just as you desired.
Love is the one – but what? Love comes from beauty, right?
Full lips, bright eyes, as dead as the night,
The best thing a girl can be is pretty.
(well that’s what they are on screens)
And that’s why I cried when they drew a picture,
Fourteen and they took all our ‘best features’
Ripped them from our bodies,
Bundled them up into one jigsaw creature
-where’s mine?
They forgot me,
But it’s fine – she’s got your per-son-a-lit-y.
And I cried.
It’s easy to say, I know, and I see
That things are better now, I am almost free.
But oh she’s been in the wars:
She’s hit; she’s ripped; she’s cut; she’s lost;
That pleasing object onscreen – she’s yours.
But passion’s no good, gotta be pure, sweet and true
Well she’s gotta be new, and a girl's gotta do
What a girl only can do,
‘Til she’s through,
‘Til she’s cold cold and blue,
So hey lady, lady, lay-dee,
Who are you?
Sorry for the passion, words disordered in a heap.
Didn’t mean to make it bleak. Didn’t mean to make her speak.
But you see this is how she might.
Flocked in furious, in flight,
The little bird - the beast - is heard:
Each word, each word, each bite.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
Take me back, take me there:
Arms all goosey with the cold, as the sun said goodbye to us,
He waved in pinky-purple rays, sliding,
At the end of sticky summer days.
Right then the sea was blue, later he’d be red,
(And my eyes be blue instead), but now
He sat in front and sparkled, and you,
Were warm beside (like always),
And there, right then, (like never);
Your arm the oak bough
Above my shoulder, reaching outwards, upwards, and away.
But here we were, here we’d stay,
The warm trees: solid. Frozen.
And leaning still, and interwoven,
Some minutes more.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
Far away
you can stay close
if you want
I’ll forget every reason
why not
remembering only the why
-why I should never have turned my back
to your crooked smile
your soft glow
you’re
your eyes.
Stay close and have nothing
far away you are
everything
the sun moon stars,
heavens above,
dance the clouds.
I want to say to
take my hand and
lead me, treading softly
along your silk path
through the sky
-it’s okay.
But no,
don’t get too close
stay behind the line
stay away.
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC