The fog
Now sets
On
This world
Of ours
Making
Your love
Fade
Into abis...
I'm losing
Sight
I'm losing
You
I'm losing
The beauty
I feel
In love
With...
Darling
My love
My eyes
To the
World...
I'm going
Blind...
But your
Beauty
I will always...
See...

Gun in aim
Bone on trigger
Remorse long gone
Devil on lips
Teeth blood thirsty
Eye on sight
Target in range
Innocent is blind
Evil wanted ****
Your the reaper
With a gun
I'm the target
Cross on head
Pull metal back
Blood thirsty teeth
Grin at me
Now I'm dead...

Our bodies are poetry
from soft to smooth to hard
our bodies are poetry
freckled, shaped and scarred

Our mouths are dancers
unchoreographed, with memory
our fingers are virgins
gentle and trembling

Our eyes, are passerbys
our noses, cuddling cubs
our arms, reconnecting friends
our knees buckle with every touch

Our bodies are poetry
fitting into every groove
our bodies are poetry
from hard to soft to smooth

The blade runner,

The blade told me to calm down,
Stop seeing red.
That moment lasted momentarily,
The blade ran across me like an ice skate,
On grooves already used before,
Protruding into the skin and floor,
Momentarily,
As we see red.
Then replaced by new cells,
Or related like ice plains,
Like a new day,
Coincidentally.
Scars remained
and like my palms,
Lifelines that tamed the desires
To be,
Famous,
Or aim for the place where I won't wake up tomorrow.
For the moment has passed
And I'm shattered like glass with tiny pieces of blood drop pouches that decimate the surroundings as they fall to the floor,
I'm sure;
I never asked to be the blade runner.

I bet you wouldn't put those tattoos on your gravestone

Not that's it's any of my business,
But you look like an idiot,

And I heard you say that girls name and it ain't the same as the one on your neck as your necking today,

Is it mate,

And I don't mean to come across boring,
But I'm sure your mothers name ain't Tory either.

Necks covered in angel wings,
and misdemeanours;
I hope there's someone watching over you to see you make those mistakes.

It looks pretty cool though - make no mistakes.

But I can see through your thick rimmed spectacles.

Making a spectacle of yourself when you can clearly see.

A small package bugling through your skinny jeans
And of course Dr Martens,

And a quiff that's bleached.

Farewell flower child,
Don't look so amazed and glare,
When people stare at you and your down right ridiculous tattoos,

On the platform after me that's a par for you,

I was only passing through,
With naked skin,
Untouched by ink.

You would think I didn't want to leave a mark in this world were in.