I build homes in my heart;
with bedrooms, bathrooms. With kitchens and attics.
Winding staircases- gardens.
They beat in time with my blood
and with each pump, become a little larger.

I am the only resident.

The Agrophobic Architect; never invited elsewhere.
never to know another's heart-home.
never invited in.

So i built homes in my heart
and slowly
the foundations decided to b/r\e/a\k
apart.

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

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

How ironic to drown

In a sea of voices

Yet hope for

The lifeboat of your laugh.

There is a snake.
Its many beautiful scales criss-cross over
my heart. I. I. I.
promised to never tell a soul
and hoped to die.

I'll be swallowed whole.

Boa-constricting inside my head
until the ink coloured poison drip drops till
i'm dead

The words got lost in my throat
when the addition of another soul to replace mine
was first and honestly noticed
and i cant find them anymore
they fluttered upwards and died on the tip of my tongue
wishing somehow i could revive them with brute force but i don't ever think i could even find the strength to combat the conversation again
it hurts it hurts it hurts
my god it hurts
knowing this fleeting moment is in perpetual agony
without rhyme or reason i stick by again and again and again

I Just Wanted To Love You
without anyone listening.

There are 2 exits.
3, if you count a 6 story drop.
She accepts it
i just want to stop.

There's a table, some chairs.
Decorated with some sort of dead or dying flower.
Her tracing fingers, my raising hairs.
Rats run in the shower.

i can't find the carpet
she found the bed
with my fate set
to that room i was led.

the seconds ran miles
my mind went too
she called these acts, trials
to lose your youth.

When it was over
your sweat turning stale
you called me your lover
i called you my jail.

We have Homes: Security
We have Graveyards: Grief
We have Old folks homes: Maturity
And Prisons: Thief.

Humans are cozy creatures,
Like things neat and tidy
Building, buildings to compartmentalise our society.

Once, twice, three times too many.
Sounds and shapes controlling the contrary.
Darkness, blackened abyssal, all of the above- Tricks and deception-
the leaving of love.
Lusting after loosing;
To find courage after fear..
Wishing and wanting those who once were dear.
Of course you'll find
your heart in pieces,
Not just one's two's or threes.
You'll find that a soul simply shatters
in a muted ambiguity.

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.

calling a lost lover
to begin to head on over
this bedroom was only a boarding gate
and this bed your layover.

i
am born with an emptiness that is unable to be translated into words.
struggle
through nights without looking inwards for fear of never looking out.
without
knowing the best way to patch up this piecemeal pockmarked heart.
you
the planned escape route to run away with once it all turns to dust.

                                                  its funny how we always see the wrongs
                                                    just that moment too late.

i dug my patch of dirt
with my fingers in repentance

this formality before the hurt
this action my penance.

like these roots that roam
far beyond their means

this heart can't be home
to any semblance of honesty it seems.

with the soil                              a cradle
weighing me down
i see a vision of a mottled crown
the coldness seeping in
and for growth to start somewhere within.

the afters
scattered at ankle height.
bodies and turkeys and bottles
litter the 26th midday.
you’re still not here,
Saint Nick. Last year I drove you
to the north
but you said I couldn’t stay. duty called
& you wanted Christmas
with another loved one.

so I left my flat at midnight
with sweetness in my hands
raised;
to the sky watching
for a red light streaking unashamedly,
but the front of the doorstep
was not
darkened by a jolly frame.

the snow
withheld at cloud height.
maybe 8 billion people means
overtime.
maybe a no show means
it’s over time.
and writing a letter 9 hours after
you put the reins down
seems a bit desperate, don’t you think, Saint Nick?

the not days to new years
rupture at heart height.
the workshop’s shut, elves on annual leave. Loving like this means waiting
on an 11 month reprieve.
now the fireworks have started
Auld lang syne sung
but my arms hold the departed,
Saint Nick, perhaps is done.

so now im waiting
for another ** ** ***
and maybe
this one won’t love me enough
also.

Your fingers,
wrapping around my cuffs ripping the seams
That's your revenge it seems
till the hard come down had set in,
what you would scream, now stays within.
You've run through the pipelines in my head.
Sewer dreams.

curated
left myself hanging on the gallery of promises.
eyes and arms outstretched,
ache and need
follow you around the room.
do a double take,
take my few remaining moments
while you ponder
if you could have done something similar, leaving loss under floodlights
to tell a feeling, to rot under public protection.

See,
my problems
seem to stem
from those three words.
that now, i have promised
To never let escape these lips

i can only imagine a day
where you'd prefer to stay
                                                                        than sprint away.
So Run.
Run faster and faster and faster!
otherwise
my
begging may outpace you.

i take shelter in your grooves
growing stronger in the curves
like whetstones smoothing and sharpening me down
to make a fine point

i wanted you to build with me
to push
me
up gently.

see if this rust
can turn into something beautiful
to see if rust
can be turned to gold

Hello, you.
I won't bid adieu,
till we finish these few
stanza's.

You came looking again.
am I right?
You just can't tame
those feelings, thinking-Poetry
will make'em behave- quite.

Well. We're both at a loss.
My own pen resists writing
icy words. Frost.
Bitten sentences need warm eyes
to thaw out.

Tell you what, lets
work. together.
I'll write something, anything which'll
forever, stay.
You just have to promise to remember it
and not twist it.

I'm not sure if our talk
was lengthy enough or indepth.
You'll just have to accept.
This; Metaphorical-Physical-Emotional-Mental
discussion has ended.

What we may of, or may not of, agreed upon.
Shall come true.
Now
adieu.

In a different light,
i'm sure i could see you
in this strangers' face.

With another drink,
i'm sure you'd taste
the same as this stranger tongue.

With another day..or two..
i'm sure your laugh (your laugh)
will fade into this strangers' throat.

BUT IT WON'T.
with another, another with.
      cause we're both.
without each other.