"Red wire, Red wire;
Oh won't you let me go to bed?
The days' been so long,
the nights' too
and I'd like to rest my head!"

But no- The Red wire replied.
The clocks yet to tock,
the stars are yet to align
and the moons not yet sighed.

"Oh Please," I begged
"Red wire, let me sleep.
Take my arms, my legs
or my heavy heart instead!"

I see, the Red wire said,
Snaking around my throat.
My lungs filled with dread.
"I will make you dream.
Dream.
Dream.
until we are dead."                          
                                       So i dreamed  with your silky red thread
                                       where i wished for your hands: to be led.

Re-reading past conversations
just to double check,
you dished out
the same words you'd get.

**and not feel at fault.

i tell myself:
                     "To be used; is to be wanted,
                                                                       to be loved."
Only pathetically
can i ever dream
that they be
synonymous.

You were Sheet music.
or Braille.
or Latin.
Indecipherable surface level:
Tension, felt through the page.
Slowly the notes unwound,
then
bumps in the story smoothed out,
leading
to me finally understanding what tense we were in.

And i would Relearn all of You;
in a Heartbeat.

and so I shatter.
my own absorber of maladies
remover of toxins; the internal kind
my Ambergis protection
my broken bracelet.

I'll collect the beads
but you will never be rebuilt.

*so i don't really see the point

Flying on paper made airplanes
We thought we were free.
But we were just sitting on windowpanes, dreaming
Naive You and me.

so i wound
whats left of my feeling
in copper wire.
The idea being;
any regretful shocks will
jumpstart-my heart-healing.

playing piano
along your arms
is somehow my
sweetest tune

At what point does a
Need to remember
incense a
Need to forget?

Perhaps in fact an acceptance
of
Not so common sense.

Never ending days
vs
Never ending nights
pose an interesting quandary;

Would you rather:
See
or
Dream

Eternally?

Fear not; The thought of loveless life.
For even the Moon is kissed by the Sun.

Jumping over cracks
dizzying heights of
curbs and
solid roofs. Window sills
are platforms. doorways.
tunnels
hidden inside the dishwasher,
the bedroom's a stage
looking skywards to find
flight paths of cyclists
rushing past blaring bells
playing chicken with trees'.
swimming between the branches to cliff dive
onto faux concrete
arms that.
suffocate.
*so lovingly.

obsession hopping became a bad habit
symptomatic:
collecting / chasing / creating / crying.
but at least
i'll have learnt
how to properly juggle my haphazard heart
burned into muscle memory.

The air is immovable.
you took the wind with your wrists
so i light candles for a trace
of your cyclone steps
To   stop    drowning    on    dry      land
let me breathe in
let me hold your hand.

i am not afraid of heights, fights or small spaces.
i am not afraid of snakes, spiders or crocodiles.
what frightens me.
Is Everyone's Intangibility.
Doubtful, willingness to stay.
The fear that no matter what, they'll
All Leave Anyway.
I am afraid of my own and everyone else's
Temporality.

I dreamt it finally
Saw it in
all its glory.
But even in dreams
There's still no hope for  you
for me.
Soft. Silken. Warm.
Intangible, without fear
Without form.
I dreamt it finally
and to an end I hoped to see
to see you
and me.

Be not afraid
of loneliness
as
Streetlights must be unlit
to sometimes see the stars.

The Night
sparkles somewhere....far
lit only by
the tail of some falling star.
and under it
Two hearts expend,
all that they thought....
they thought their hearts could send.
and between them
The oaken child
who stares up at the sky
wishing to be wild.
and in his hand
a pen tightly held.
a caligraphical cage
another passion quelled
And Above Them All
     Snow.............. Slowly..... begins..... to.... fall.

Return. Light, not blinding
Dispel my fear, my terror
of
loneliness (in hiding)
I. I. I.
Taste, nothing but ashes.
The hard fought flame called:
Us.
But as all fires die out
And all hope. All trust.
We must forgive (or at least forget)
We must return to dust.

Slip out into verse
with or without curse
let the rhymes run round you
getting wrapped up in words so true
grunting away your anger serves naught
so shout the lines and cries you been taught
sing your frustrations out, out, out!
Let them ring!

Even when!

**When you don't know how to begin!

this love is a caricature
overblown into something not quite natural but still you see the foundations. if this was something normal like a nose an ear or freckles fine i'd understand

But it's not

it's something you count back from twenty to cover your need to break something kind of caricature.
it's that I'm not angry I'm not angry I'm not angry
repeating ritual kind of caricature.
that promising the next morning you'll close your eyes at daybreak and finally be able to let go!! kind of caricature.

im no artist
As all my attempts have shown
I'm only a poet
and
all my poetry is *overblown.

chasing yellow brick roads
leads only to windmills wound around
over-ThinkHearSee-ing
till eventually you find nothing
but faults of your own and the doubts
which trickled up now reversed to waterfalls
cascading upon old hearts to freeze any semblence
of feeling
wait

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
You will love
**Again

I saw you standing there.
Looking at the street as if it was a stained glass tapestry telling you how much your life would take
Then.
You saw me, but you didn't "see" me.
It was lazy
lacklustre
And should of screamed a thousand warnings
But I..I'm oblivious aren't I?
I notice the curve of your back, crumpled silk I reach to smooth out and bring you back AND

With a flinch that runs through you

I tie my tongue around my teeth.
Somehow I manage to say
"How was your day?"

"Okay" you'd say. Looking through me you'd say.
"Okay"

you don't have to bother
apologising, i've spat out worse
discussions
after speaking to myself