When did we become finely divided?
When did we get to the hinterland of love?
When did we divide into particles finer than silk?
When did our love become bland?
We are sand.  
We are non renewable.

I watch him sleep and trace his face with a finger
he could be you, but he’s better.
His hair is a deep chocolate brown his eyes like caramel
his smell is clean like washed cotton on a breeze
and I am seized of a deep ache.

I loved you once.
A pure deep love.
A painful love that never left.

He stirs and his face creases into a smile
I want to follow his dream.
To sit in the curve of his lips and watch the images unfold.
Knowing that within the circle of his dream, I hold his focus.
I want to spiral down and burrow under his skin,
to be owned just by him.

He’s not you.
He loves me.
He’s caused me no pain.

I enter the crook of his arm and silently exhale
Knowing my kisses are printed on his body
My love upon his heart
He’s not you,
He’s better.

The lights were dim,
and the noise was loud,
crowds of people all around.
I lost my way in the throng,
bourne along on the beat of the night.
Cigarettes needed, I left the bar
suddenly there you are.
You tried to chat I wanted none of that
just my smokes and a familiar face,
I tried with grace to let you know
move on, just go.
Just then I I knew my mistake,
you grabbed my arm and hissed in my face
“My name is John”
I tried to smile use some guile,
but you were hell bent, and all that I did seemed to provoke.
I choked the fear down, when I realised we were alone,
how did you get me here?
Wedged between the wall and the cigarette machine.
Croaks were all that I could summon as you undid my buttons,
frozen in fear, switched off from here.
Fight or flight?
Neither just fright.
I remember your smell, your touch, your words
I wanted to scream GO TO HELL but nothing came out.
The kisses were the worst,
no matter how hard I tried to move my head away
your lips, your tongue found their target.
Bruising me, pushing me, grabbing me, groping me
As you pinned my hands behind my back, I gave up,
Just like that.

We lost the game.
No scores to be had.

Living was copying motions
of same old ways,
from bygone days.

Immolated landscapes
Unconsecrated ground
Land now sand
Silence the only sound.

People as mannequins
shackled to consumerism
now free to be human
humanity is dead
turned to dust and ash.

Charred trees, charred bones
Libraries and ossuaries
Rock, paper, scissors
Sinners, readers, builders
All on bended knees
Pillars of salt blown away on the blast wind.

Flame extinguished.

Floating like Dandelion florets caught upon the breeze
Thoughts scatter to the four corners of the world
Lucid dreams dragging ecstatically at the seam of self
Unpicked nightmares rearing up and roaring
A lions roar, a cats purr fangs floating in a pool of perfume
Cannot obscure the golden tower of blow *****
Seed dispersal through rosettes
Disturbed paw printed earth receives seeds.

Sentences are words making love.
Filling paper or screen with letters of adoration
Meaning and content overflowing
Descriptions and senses brought together in words.

Yet what is making love?
Can you manufacture love?
What does making love feel like?
Is there a difference between a **** and making love?

Love, that profoundly tender passion
Love wants attention
Love wants commitment
Love wants,and wants and wants.

Love is not just a noun it is a verb to be acted upon
Love is commitment
Love is creation
Writing is creation.