If you want to meet me
meet me
in the car park
(use the back door)
I will light a joint
and pretend to care
about your problems -
in this fading light
we could be friends.
We could be lovers.
I have spent too many nights
missing your fingers
while they filled another woman
more beautiful
than I am and I wish
that my spread legs
were home enough
to hold you -
to cradle you
for the winter.
Had my lungs the depth
I would have stolen
every drop of your breath
any and all times
I kissed you -
had my teeth the strength
I would have torn out
that lying white throat.
Had my hands the nerve
I would have carved out
a place for myself
inside of you.
Had my heart the steel
I would never have taken off my dress.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
Or like wet leaves
Along the bank
Of the canal
I was found;
Too late, and useless.
An organic refuse but beautiful -
Beautiful in moonlight.
So deep.
So far beneath
The topsoil
I had forgotten sunlight
I had forgotten
Sky
And all the promises you'd broken
And all I had done.
These worms
My silent neighbours
In this
Premature grave
That I had made
An unforgiving
Home of;
An unforgiving
Wife of.
A love of.
A son of.
A blanket and shroud
And my own flesh and blood of
And buried the promises.
Buried the lover.
With curses, and flowers.
And sonnets
I wrote in the bad times
When night would not end
And I drank myself foolish;
And kisses.
The kisses you owe me.
The kisses I owe you.
The debt never settled.
The truth long forgotten -
That you were mine, always.
That I was the only.
The tender, the keeper.
The jewel and the seeker
The lover
The lover
The hands still in slumber.
The head at my shoulder.
The soft breaths that bound me.
The stranger, that found me;
That fed me
And clothed me
And warmed me by winter -
And lit up the streetlamps.
And scattered the starlight.
The burden you carried
That shattered your body.
And you were so strong, then;
So valiant. So I bore
That strength like a shadow
Until you were weakened;
And buried me, too late.
Too late but still breathing.
These wet leaves in moonlight
Reflecting the skyline.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
I
I spend a great deal of my life under influence.
If you came home with me
you would notice how my bedroom
permanently stinks
of ***** if you came out with me I would tell you
that I drink the way I do
because I know that the liver will heal itself
and the mind will not but in truth
it is because I know
that you cannot run from yourself;
but that you can hide
in a thick enough fog.
II
I often wonder
who I would have been
if I had not met you; if I would bleed less
and sleep more
and eat enough or if this is genetic -
if there is something written in my chromosomes
that will always keep my hands twitching
around knives and nooses.
III
I still get a head rush from tobacco,
even after all this time.
IV
I still get a head rush
when I see you,
even after all this time.
V
The day I became a shrine to you
I forgot what colour my mind was
beneath the tapestries;
I smell incense
everywhere I go and I do not
remember lighting it.
I did not agree
to these renovations I did not choose
the pieces
I just woke up like this one day,
glasses painted rosy.
Edges sanded down.
VI
I haven't finished a book
in the year
since we last spoke.
VII
I thought you were forever.
A reference on my CV.
A heart in the corner of my notebook.
VIII
I thought you were forever.
A clause in my marriage vows,
my daughter's middle name.
IX
I am afraid
that you will be forever.
A scab that I cannot stop picking.
A scar that I will
always
have to explain.
X
I am afraid
that I will open my mouth one day
and your voice will come out of it.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
So in Novemeber rain
******* on wet cigarettes like babe at milkless breast
I am passed
by the jogger.
Tanned limbs wrapped in polyester
hair wet by salt and water
I entertain myself
with the thought
that we
are the two types of people
who come out on Monday mornings in weather like this;
scars turning purple in the cold
all numb fingers and gooseflesh
and their breath
as white as mine
against the dark of early the sunrise
is a great leveler
on days like today.
These are the mornings I do not go hungry
in fear of the growing space between my thighs -
the masters of illusion
can make themselves appear invisible
but I cannot conceal my disappearing act much longer.
I am sixteen smoker's cough they tell me
I have a heart murmur I take it
as irrefutable proof I have
a heart feeling
the early
seeds
of death settle
in my chest with every drag,
some things are inexcusable
and I am learning that I am not blameless.
A few too many nights walking under unlit streetlamps
do not make you a victim I am learning that I
am not the victim Atlas shrugging off responsibility
a person
can only carry so much guilt
before they bend and
bad backs run in my family
so
I may be a coward -
but I will never say I was not warned.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 7:41 AM UTC
You've not been eating and it shows -
I do not care to see your ribs
Nor feel them ridge beneath my lips
In our night; only moonlight knows.
Our legs entwined - this too shall pass;
When morning strikes this all must end;
Your fingers trace my arm again -
Twelve scars from silver, one from glass.
It is your mouth that kills me here.
There's nothing further once you're gone;
Ashamed to reach our denouement,
You watch me as I disappear.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
The most basic rule
of chemistry
states that
no whole is greater than the sum of its parts
but now we think that particles
are wave functions that blink in
and out
of being and look at you,
all blonde hair and blue eyes
small hands and crooked teeth,
you are so much more
than what makes you up.
You are more
than nine tenths empty space but nature
abhors a vacuum; what I know
is that scientists
cannot get their **** together.
Trust me.
I am one.
The human experience
as you put it, your small hands
waving in frenzy
was nothing to me
until I experienced you;
and even now - look at me.
I'll never have a Master's of Arts, like him.
I do not know
how many words there are
in the English language. You don't either -
but if I asked you
you would definitely pretend that you did.
All I know
is that I have spent three long years
trying to find ones that do you justice
and I have failed
every single time.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 7:36 AM UTC