You and I are always together
in sweat and showers,
delicious dinners,
in choice, in trials, in travels
and at bedtime.
I watch you sleep and wonder
if we are together in dream.
Because I can never get tired of you.

this clay mould
that hides my soul
needs to break

It won't be long.
It won't be long
until you find yourself
running to the platform
with your suitcase
faltering over the cracks
in the concrete.
As the train pulls out
you see blinding fears
diminish and then
disappear entirely.
You see false love
for what it is
and then thank whoever
for your opportunity
to experience it.
It won't be long
until those psalms of travel
become a reality.
Until you are removed
from your pigeon-hole
and post-code
which have been tagged
to you since birth.
You can replace
them with a new name
or in the different way
you apply your eye-liner
and look across
the new rooms
you frequent.
It won't be long
until you find yourself.
I promise,
it won't be long.

Do you love me
Or the fact I love you?
Do you want me
Or only my love?

Do you like how I make you feel
Or how you make me feel?

I wonder,
Will your love stop
After mine does
Or will it go on?

Is it something about me
Or is it all about you?

Just tell me baby,
Why do you love me?


F.Z.N

I just want to lay here
Wallowing in your loss

it's too late to fret
about decisions made
and ties cut, past tense.
it's hard to see it
without the glaring minutiae
of my demise.
I'm scanning the walls
for a change of subject-
Polaroids and butterfly carcasses,
city skyline sketches
and old cigarette advertisements
in gilt gold frames;
satisfy yourself.

my mind is saturated
with degenerate cogitation-
a stew of pantheons
and painstaking nihilism.
my bones are brittle
and begging to break
and my eyes are growing heavy,
with the weight of it all.