A mess, a mess,
just a total bleeding mess.
Mascara on cheeks,
tears running down your skin,
hatred burning on flesh,
fear searing on your bones.

Muscles aching,
hearts breaking,
voiced longing to be heard,

Like the calls of a bird, a raven,
as it swoops over the sky,
as your thoughts begin to unravel,
the final strings of your sanity become entangled,
in the web of lies
and pain
and hatred

And the crying, the wailing,
the sobbing like a glass dam has shattered,
in the depths of your mind.
But all of a sudden, there's nothing.
Static, white static,
Plain, boring, nothing,
a blissful silence, the absense of pain
and hurt and heartbreak and longing

Nothing.
Nothing left, ever.

Running, running, running from the fears
that I left behind when I said to you,
'I jus can't do it, not any more'
But only in my mind, where nobody,
not even you, my dear
could hear me scream at my demons,
and my demons scream back at me
like banshees sprinting over a fiery hatred,
a loathing of oneself and everything to do
with me.

Turning, turning, turning away from you,
screaming the words to ebb my fear,
'I can do it, I can stay strong'
But I can't, and you know it just as well as me,
though you will not say it,
will not admit that you give up,
give in to the demons I have gifted your soul,
which scream at us both in turn,
Not a burden halved, a burden doubled,
one both of us bear.


Screaming, screaming, screaming the things
I never want to have to say to you,
Broken locks on boxes of secrets
Saying, 'I love you, but I'm afraid to tell you'
Because what I jump into your arms,
with an open heart
and you don't catch me, but you just let me fall
and I can't stop falling, tumbling down to wonderland
But would you even care?


Falling, falling, falling till I break
into tiny littles pieces of a broken heart and say,
'Save me, please,'
Though I know you won't hear me, and if you do,
would you care, would you save me?
Would you even try
to save the girl who loved you,
and who you never told how you felt,
who you confused and dropped into the deep blue sea


Loving, loving, loving forever in the sun
Until the inevitable comes upon us all,
'I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore, it isn't right'
And the pieces of our hearts,
barely stitched back together with soft tongued threads,
are shattered once more,
Like stained red glass lying on a road,
Run over by a car with no care for feelings,
Run, turn, scream, fall, love

It's all anybody knows to do.

Eyes made of chocolate,
Melt with a warm heart, warm soul
Behind them, always


Sweet voice of sugar,
Sweetens my day with a laugh,
Dancing in the air


But oh, how that smile,
Can light up my day like that,
Make me smile like that


His treasured light heart,
The joyfulness of his smile,
The kindness he brings.

Down by cobbles

and old brick buildings,

teetering towers touching the sky,

where the August sun beats,

down on dancers,

and jugglers,

and singers with voices,

filling the air with harmonies,

that could be of any time,

where we will walk a mile.



Down over bridges,

where the shoppers roam,

stores of brick and marble,

and the station and mall

of steel and cutting, harsh glass,

which cut into the sponge of our history,

yet hear the littering of fuller notes,

piping, piping,

not a word to rise above it,

where we will walk a mile.



And up the hill,

where Arthur sits,

looking down on ants and antics,

of a city on a city on a town by the sea,

with dark trees and dark clouds,

and a single spark of light,

that rare moment of the sun,

shining through onto rain-slicked streets,

of ashes and smiles equally,

where we will walk a mile.



Over to Tynie,

where maroon flies from the windows,

with smiles and hopes and buildings,

built on what we've learned ourselves,

and the cries of nineteen of two,

run furiously through the air,

like a battle cry for all to hear,

and five one, too,

for isn't the our victory better than their defeat here,

where we will walk a mile.





Then down again to an old port,

of bakehouses and boats,

of songs and sins together,

built on the remnants of the past,

as everywhere is, of course,

and of green and white and blue and grey,

with screams of dreams that,

will never come true,

but to achieve these dreams so dear to hearts,

one must walk five hundred.

How it is to be a child.

A creature forged in forges
of crayoned little drawings

A spirit of an open soul
a heart that's always soaring

Don't tell them yet,
don't tell them yet,
how cruel the world can be.

They'll never know,
they'll never know,
if we never let them see.

There is such a thing
that lingers in your mind
glistens on your cheeks
clings to your every thought.

That with the tantalising hope
that one day our souls may be free
once more to roam the plains
of our hearts.

Where such beauty is found,
amidst such mundanity,
like a brilliant spark of light
in a tunnel of tumbling darkness.

But yet this hope is wrenched away
this beauty reduced to ashes
of gnarled and twisted trees
in a forest for your demons' pleasures.

At their will,
at their will only,
your cheeks grow wet,
and your eyes grow moist.

And tears are
                         falling
Your heart is
                       breaking

Everything is lost.

Lemon,
Lime,
Happens all the time.

Orange,
Green,
Heavy eyes are seen.

Gone off,
Bad,
Got me kinda sad.

Cloaks,
Veils,
Bitter taste of betrayal

My lower lip trembles,
                
                  tears threaten me,

                         they're going to do it,

                                     they'll drown me.

But they fall,      

          as tears always do,          

               and I must try so hard                  

                      not to scream out loud.          

But, to my dismay,          

      I still can't stop it        

             from ripping madly                        

                      out of my throat.  

Like a knife      

       being wrenched,              

                 out of my bleeding,                    

                       betrayal battered back .

Amber, falling down,
Leaves, cascading to the ground,
A tree stands naked

Love is not pink.
It is is not the squeals of a little girl,
of a little baby whining in the cradle.
Not pearls round your neck
or a flower blooming in your soft, soft hair,

Love is not white.
Not the song of an angel,
of the innocent beauty of ethereal light.
Not the heavenly singing from above,
or a dance in tutus around a swan's passing,


Love is not black.
Not the harsh, gritty sadness,
of an age old fire's remnants.
Not the evil darkness lurking,
or a lie that breaks down the walls of the living,

Love is not purple.
Not the mystery of a simple mind,
of death's lullaby to sing you to sleep.
Not the murky depths of an old sea,
or a wicked distortion of concrete old rock.


Love is red.
Love is passion, fire,
it is a great, great inferno,
it crumbles your life to ash,
Love is the taste of cherry red lips,
of a dress which shimmies down your shape,
of everything just coming together like strings on a piece of fabric,


Love is red.

Poem

In the navy of the night,
you prowl
In the light of the moon's soft gaze,
you smile.

With my heart in your hands,
you wash them of the blood,
as I taste the saccharine taste of your lips,
our love everlasting through the twilight.

At the hour of the witch,
I scream,
At the season of cold,
I dream.

While I try not to cry through my lashes,
I know I must still be strong for this love,
though I wish I could fall into you,
our love never ending this night.

If only it was more than dreams,
for my heart to never rip its seams,
And for your eyes to hold mine to dear,
mouth to whisper sweetness in my ear.

For when my gaze sees you,
for you to hold mine too,
And when my heart is aching,
our love could be just in the making.

I can feel my wrist,
feel the coarse, scarred sandpaper scars,
breaking down my soul

It was the haunting cries,
the wails of children,
of fires burning out the nooses,
tied around their necks

Then it was the darkness,
the sense of nothingness,
but just a pit of pity,
a black hole of numbing despair

Death was coming now,
its claws dragging across
the thin fabric of life,
unravelling each tearful thread