You're a liar,
you're disgusting,
a coward in lions clothing.
A murderer playing martyr,
an opposite Oedipus,
**** the mother, love the father.
Cry for help,
sing your hymns out of tune,
love the sun and miss the moon.
Compare yourself to flowers?
You're a ****,
choking your lover and filled with greed.
A fowl mouthed, black cowled, red monstrosity.
-red?
No not your hair, it's your blood,
start out a tear,
end with a flood.
You're god now,
in control of your soul
somehow still not whole.
Wash yourself clean,
you're Babylon's *****,
make stomachs turn
and the holy water         burns

              burns

                                     ­                   BURNS

Cut Samson's hair and tie it to your own,
maybe it'll give you strength
to form a knot, tie a length.
Amen,
love yourself,
what's there to love?
You're nothing.
Nothing but rot.

Let yourself go,
breath in the water,
love the burn,
you're gods favourite daughter.

The martyr stood,
shaken on the ledge,
with the courage of a god,
he jumped off the edge.
And he sailed down the sea,
as the gulls cried and cried,
and came to rest,
by his salt buried bride.

A ******,
a ******,
how depressing to see,
a ******,
a martyr,
made of you and me.

And it flows,
and it flows,
red ink in pen of frail bone,
This garden of souls,
where it grows,
where it grows

Headlights blink in navy blue,
as I drive down long and winding roads,
Music looping endlessly,
past meadow creeks and yellow toads.

Dawn brings decisions,
the callings of fate and strings pulled taught.
This empty path is coming to a close,
My mind's never felt so fraught,

All our choices come down to,
left or right,
there is no straight ahead so,
out of spite,

despite,

in spite of,

I roll the windows down,
stark white, my fingers gripped
the steering wheel, refusing to turn
Mind made, heart strict.

Racing towards oblivion,
towards a place that I don't know,

I choose left,
the path towards home.

The cassette tape whirs
over in my head,
remembering,
remembering,
everything I said.
Faded lines harden,
as the black tape grows,
black with bitter resentment,
more than you could know.
The tape catches it all,
those lines of weariness and age.
It was my fault,
I know it is,
replay it stage by stage.

He's sweet
in a way I'll never be.
I'm sweet in a way
that will rot your teeth.

But he,
holds me with honey,
calls me sweet,
and loves me softly.

Even before you were born,
there was sickness in your skin.
Pearl white and gasping,
love for you was foolish sin.

I wonder now if I am you,
meant to be you.
That fate and life twisted madly,
and maybe it's really true.

Yours was of the body,
mine is of the mind
and everyday I live
I'm scared I'm going blind.

Blind to trees,
to seas,
to flowers and sunsets,
and the fading hours.

I'm scared to see you
and yet I do.
I see chocolate curls
and chocolate eyes
and a smile just as sweet.

I see a freckled nose
and green thumbed hands
and my heart,
it's skipping beats.

And I look in the mirror
and I'm relived to see,
hazel eyes and
hair like autumn leaves.

There's bruises beneath my eyes,
my heart, my lungs.
But I'm still relieved to see,
the palloured skin is yours,
the sickness all for me.