i shouldn't have
expected anything less;
deluding myself
is what i do best.

I saw you smoking,
one of those old cigarettes.
didn't know what you were thinking
but your face said regrets.
But me being me,
turned myself to ash
cause we all know how fast love
will run quick and dash.
You stomped on the one that was dangling on your lip
This is where my common sense should of took grip.

Because you love as it suits you,
no mutual affection.
But stupid me.
thinking i could be a
correction.

Did you see the                                                                                          
balloons for your birthday?
I painted them
by hand, I knew you'd say
how cool, how nice, or
whatever. Man- they took forever.

How about your day out?
When we lazed and dazed the day away.
The night spent, ourselves sent a sway
over the sofa.
Your bed was too far,
and mine wouldn't miss me if it was
for a good cause.

This   was   better  than  a  good   cause

There's a fine line,
between
Arrogance------Confidence

Mr Tightrope Talker

"i guess that's how you know you've lost.
                                           being swept up in a current
                                                                   that wasn't meant for you."

he cuts roses to
feel the rain.

Mother’s Day.

a downpour in the garden
he tilts the stems
to sever them
from the root.
he tilts the stems
to drink in
a little more.

left our things
cratering the desert;
palms upturned
pulling the pressure away -
soft-words
talking down the crumpled spine of loss.
the sand,
the sand.
if it wasn’t so fine,
would you be able to trust
the mistaking of
abrasion for absolution?
will you be able to forgive
the belief
that a collapse can come
with good intentions?

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

my words are capped. Over
with.
half-started sentences.
they just get cut
into somebody else.
they just get -
- -body else.

and i want to ------

I've forgotten the words written
Upon your skin.
Did we write about the late nights the long days and leave the lustful leisure?
I've forgotten.
I've forgotten the smells slathered
Upon your skin.
Were they the sickly sweet apple blossom or cherry picked berries?
I've forgotten.
I've forgotten the taste.
Of Love bitten handholding and sneaky snaking fingers and thumbs
I've forgotten you.
And I wonder if
You've forgotten me.

probably.

THE TIME WE SPENT WAS BORROWED ON BAD CREDIT.

1. We both knew this
2. I didn't care
3. You saw this ending
4. An end that wasn't even fair

so now i'm not speaking and yet you still fight

cause you know that means i would win,
i would be right.

"I mean we were destined to fail, I've read every card in the deck, scry'd every crystal in the store. Looked for meanings in the Stars, the tea, the cracks in the pavement. Fishbones, wishbones, my palms and the swirls at the back of my eyelids. Can't you see?"

"I see. The magpies came in two's."

"Exactly, there's happiness somewhere."

"Just not here."

**"Yes. Just not here."

the song in the whirlpool
with coral collarbone
i didn't mean to break you
we weren't made to be alone.

"I'm go-"
Cut off.
The digital dial tone, that we all know too well.
At least before, the dead non-judgemental
"Beeeeep"
Was there for you; to scream/cry/vent/talk/confess.
And now?
We are left with nothing but ourselves.
Unsure, insecure mess.

the taps rusted over
but i'm yet to know if the beer tastes any more bitter
than trying it as a child.
sat in a dingy leather seat
with the ribbons of cowhide at my feet
after some animal had
its way.
where the people perspire through conversations
about the weather
and the tax man
and the never changing politic.
staff and regular alike
do not remember my mothers name
like the stint she pulled was lost to myth, my name
meant nothing.
maybe that's why i sat in the pub my mother used to work
once upon a time,
to see if the atmosphere could conjure her
like the football brought fleeting happiness
five rounds in.

A steady pain
is more honest than any lover.
Skipping all formalities.
They just make you suffer.

i mourned
us
on the train back.
North East to London,
Norfolk into Suffolk into Home.

England,
a green, scarred patchwork,
blistering apart while i sit.
A woman opposite tries to coax the
context
out of me; the entertainment,
before we're pulled into Liverpool St Station.

to credit my memory -
it frames itself nicely, my mugged up
glasses.
a sunbeaten, reddened, ruddy face -
holding back.  swallowing the
outburst -

"i let myself believe for once."

we sit.
the quiet unbroken.
save for the sounds of me
steadily
getting further from you.  

the sounds of me steadily getting further from you.

i mourned us once again.
ten months in and now
six months out
filled with immeasurable moments later.
there was no woman this time.
and only without her
or us -
i found the truth to say

"i let myself believe, for once."

i. How to justify running away
there was no solid ground to stand on
no
earth to sink into.
a remember-me-not
of dirt.

ii. How to describe anxiety
laying on the edges of paper
slicing arteries of the throat,
the jugular veins,
forcing a sort of not cry/moan/scream/whimper.

iii. How to talk about unrequited love
push open the wound
accidentally scarring the memory
into skin.
writing calligraphy from the bloodstream.

iv. How to know what's home
slinking back to cotton
to caress and cover and rebuild
weary soul.
let a candle be the lighthouse.

v. How to write about someone who will never write back
oh these relentless intakes of air
that rattling the rib cage,
why is love only fair
when its finished to the bottom of the page.

chapped lips in the underground.
cream skin with Blue eyes
held red bars closer than me.
This is erratic.
Listening to screeching underfoot
To drown out
blonde wild winds
a cyclone
to taste the sky.
It was far too brief.
come back.

i stood in my new flat today
counting the spins the fan
made in its centre.
an americanism, too out of body
for me to keep an eye on.
what now?
but to wait till the inertion sickness
crawls its way from the soles up to oesophagus.

tilt back till back flat against the black flat floor.
(i hated that sentence but it needed some air.)
wondering if i can melt beneath the new money wood,
can i stand upside down,
ankles halo’d in my space and my head in the neighbours.

the hallway to the bedroom where he sleeps a little more soundly
now i’m out the bed,
dares me to leave him alone.
“you’ve clawed this distance out” i murmur back.
“i can trace it in the skirting boards.”

sitting up i go to close the window
and lock it, unlock it and smile at the little piece of freedom
i can’t ever give back.

It's.
A trap,
the little lady
sings sweet cyanide songs.
Drawing lost lambs softly, quietly.
To slaughter them. Quite rightly.

Their names'll be forgotten anyway.

"can we pretend that this never happened? can we pretend that the photo's on my phone, the pictures on the wall, the poems in my book the endless number of calls, the days out, the days in, the days somewhere inbetween, the nights, the lessons taught, the stories told and retold, till we both know them better than the back of our hands that touched when we didn't want them too, but i did, i did, i did."

tear it out cleanly.
it can heal i can deal with the scars i'm not afraid anymore
but i can't sustain this.
do not resuscitate me.

There are no blackouts for us
transitions; seemless
one waking daydreaming monologue to the next
no cut or redo
for me & you.

Deuterogenists.
Astrology and Escapology;
You dream and I disappear.
but it seems that we were casted together
This isn't stage fright- its fear.  

It's rude to say the extra's
weren't needed. But its true.
I guess the light always burned brighter,
when it was just us two.

Act I through to V
lasted our life
encore? no more.
I'll retire a gray fox and you my partner in crime.
Lets see what our final scene
has in store.

This'll reach you.
I'll scream across the void i named friendship
in the hope that a syllable pass into that amber cut heart,
to send your head spiraling into shards
of understanding.
That'll recast themselves
in a better light.

A better light
A bedroom light.                          A Dream.

Ease your shoulders.
Relax those wrists.
Impress your elders.
Inspire those kids.

Engage your modesty.
Agree to progress.
Filter your honesty.
Emotions to suppress.

Don't look so down.
They're coming- inspecting.
Looking for the next crown.
Heir circumspecting.

As I'm sure,
you can see
-ripped jeans, messy hair and a cup of coffee-
I may not of had the best
nights sleep.
But somewhere
in those spotty moments we called clarity
-or was it sobriety-
I found the right words,
to let out.

I remember bits of it,
Vowels that spun violent nights.
Consonants that concocted creative crimes.
There was even some petty punctuation too!
It was, I think
"I Love You?"
-"i loved you"-

the sun does no more
In your presence.
it is otherwise useless.
the heat of your lips
the warmth of your body
the rays from your eyes
that hold me tight.
Just
set fire to my skin.

let me burn in your sight.

I thought when
our friendship began,
I 'd start to see a pattern, a plan
but.
Calls at 3 AM with teardrops
down the receiver,
spouting nonsense like-
"Why oh why did i leave her?"

Were not expected.

I welcomed them sure,
but never had I handled this before.
This traumatic tirade of-
listless lovers that'd-
surround you suddenly.

But was now expected.

Then, at 5 in the morning
I noticed.
Your mouth. Breath had stopped drawing.
As you stared at your mural
you whispered "Tribunal"

Thus began your attack.
Hacking, blood drawn, across
what was our sofa. Now torn.

No more was that mural that tilted
that wall ever so slightly.
As for me?

I left the room quietly.

"its as if the taste never leaves my open mouth"
"that kiss only coming about because leaping into your body was easier than crawling"
"and the need to breathe was so strong"
"with the mint smoke that rose into the sky surrounding and smothering"
"lips/neck/teeth/tongue"
"everything the eyes could swallow without fear of choking"
"because feeling complete was more important that simply living in distant agony."
            
                
                                            ---------- "Excuses"---------

Rewind.
Back. Again. One more time.
To a kind,
another, close but distant
Memory. A flame. You, me?
Us.
I remember what it was called.
Trust.