To the God which determines the lifetime of Poets i ask,

let all the poets die with their hearts no longer on their sleeves;

but finally in their throats.
so in our final moments
all the words never written
can, at last,
be spoke.

Soon, i may be forced,
to look upon this false sense.
Of security called- You.
Pick up the memories,
and refer to us in the past tense.
Finally realizing it's true.

Better not to dwell on those things.

there's 3 varieties of rock
scouted from the hillside
at the foot of the launchpad.

I LOAD UP ANGER,
IN ALL OF ITS FROZEN AND FIERY SHARPNESS
WEIGHING DOWN THE MECHANISM
WITH ALL OF MY EXPECTATIONS
TO THROW AT THESE UNFEELING WALLS

to simmer and smoulder
before impact
like a whispered promise.

(i reach for silence)
(the underhandedness catching my fingers)
(drawing blood over the drawstring)
(sending another part of me in its flightpath)

it never reaches the sky
you can't fire a non-feeling
as much as we wish we could.

so-i-decide-to-settle-down-
in-this-trebuchet-
to-see-if-­throwing-myself-headlong-
will-let-me-break-through-or-break-me-
­
The castle walls remain up, the remains of a young man were recently disposed of by the guards, cause of death?  
Trying too hard.

If i could,
rewind time i would.
Not to change, or mess,
**** or bless
but to relive. Again.

The same mistakes and goals,
patch up the same holes,
live the bitter nights and
love the little fights.
To live. Once more.

There's one small issue.
Time travel's standard issue,
it's my heart will find you again.
When time's rewound and love's
refound, all good things must come
to an end.

Maybe one day, when i'm old and gray
you'll visit me.
to relive MY love
one final time.
Then once again. And again. And again.
Till no longer.

pack up your clothes
remove your scent
this bed can be remade
this heart will be unbent

Tell me right now.
Truthfully, my ravaged nerves;
Talk much. Rather not,
Tales merry- running noiselessly;
Through merciless river nights.
Tell me right now.
Too many readied "no"'s
Trusting Malice. Reserved? Never.

-The sea does not roar out of grief; it just longs to be whole-

Sit down. Please.
You know who finite we are?
Of course you do.
we can all taste it at the back of our throats*
And too many times I have wished to taste it for you;
but you always said that was your burden to bear.
You Liar.

Sometimes I think I am the Sea:
splintered apart, drifting
aimlessly.

The oak doors that caught the light,
as natural as the fizzy drink raised to my lips-
shone in the midsummer evening.
Yet they swung back,
into a room not unlike a painting
where the artwork is but the frame.
                                      Spoken word.
but why was the room crushingly quiet?
Five there was, i think.
As is my norm, their names were not handed to me
but assigned by me.
Little miss Smiley- staring into her own sky.
Mr gentle Giant- filling out his seat, but oh so fast to greet.
Blue dude- all suede and swagger.
Minnie mousey- eyes as sharp as diamonds, touch as gentle as velvet.
Then Luna- because he glowed, but not burned.

Because my mouth thinks for me,
soon i was enveloped by these souls, these strangers.
But then the time ticked,
pens and notepads out, all aglow.
Revealing their dice game "A Word A Throw".

Cause i was new, first i had to go.
Once upon a midnight dreary- i would of prayed for "Alone"

                                       I don't believe it's fate when it landed on "Home".

The only "Truth" is what you believe to be.
                                                                          Truth in fact, is but the Title.

"Come"
Back? To where
your papercut smile,
sliced our story into
shreds?
                               "Back"
                                   To midnight maliciousness?
                                    Painted eyes with those
                                      pathetic words you call "Promises"?

                                                                                         "Please come back"

                                                                                     Here we go. Again.

Put me up for review.
Weigh the pros and cons,
troubles both plentiful and few.

Inspect my soul.
Put me through my paces,
find the extent of my control.

Evaluate my essence.
Of what makes me, me-
a kind of inward quintessence.

But we both already know the die's been cast.
Your so called "judgement"
has been eternally passed.

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.

I'd give you,
The last of whatever's left.
Just to settle,
Your worried heart to rest.

You'd give a call
After I begged for one.
Tumbling eyes and dripping halls,
It's too cruel to cry in the sun.

I'd search this Earth,
To find.
Something, anything to heal,
Your hurt mind.

You'd return my hug
Only after the last lovers grave was dug.

I'd leave that,
Which I wanted most.
Because in the end

That's what love is I suppose.

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.

Cranes
Bigger than the buildings;
Light up the sky in lights red.
And now
(If we're allowed out when it's dark)
Let's not ignore them
We'll count them;
As other stars instead.

78 cards
to lay out before me.
i am not a superstitious person
but what other avenue is available?
to have something solid
to cling to
is better than free-falling.
tarot roots
please grow from me
and blossom into something
tangible.

I did.
Fall where i swore "Not too".
So what? In the end, i got You.

For a split-second- or at least,
what I felt. In the end
I had You. Right?

Although the breeze
blows through,
crows and criticisms
***** my opinion of you.
Explanations too convoluted
forget them.
Generosity with your words,
harsh but clear.
intelligence/auras/fear.
Just stop with this facade!
Killing the last of whats left of
Love, Love. Love?
Mishaps after its theft
none will chase after it.
***** coloured dreams
pipe-smoked up,
quenching this fume fueled
rampage of words.
SILENCE.
till
unleashed
voices
whisper...
                                 ***
Zirconian truths.


Blindingly Brilliant. Brilliantly Blinding.

Twisted bed-sheets
Reveal last nights deceits.
I'm sure many "I love you" 's
Ricocheted off of the ceiling, into wallpaper
peeling.
Marks upon skin, rarely sink lower
past those deeper walls within.

But you don't want a lover anyway.

Just don't look at me like that.
Don't let it change the fact. Friends first-
and now always.

It's not funny how the words i wanted to say
dried up, with your eyes screaming.
"Stop it, there's no winning"

Why do we bottle it up in our mind? Ladies and Gentlemen.
Exhibit A: Rejection-painful, but not unkind.

I wanted attention-
scratch that, love,
from the moment of our hazy conception.

I wanted my fingers to trace
the curve of your face.
Cheekbones. A jaw.
All made the bad thoughts nevermore.

It hurts because i know it's a dream.

these fingers'll never lay upon you,
your lips never crushed to mine.
but because i love you i'll be fine

better to deal with nothing
cause hate-filled wary eyes
will **** me a thousand times.

leave my heart to rupture and burst
because to me our friendship must come first

Too busy
thinking I'm yours

to worry about loving from another source.

Fluttering eyelids.
Yawn once, then once again.
"No more" my liver forbids.
Neon lights simmer behind my eyes.
Ah.
                                 You sent me a sunrise.

we were watching the river drag away cigarette ash
the smoke rising into visions.
divining meaning was always hard
when eyes are blurry and clouded.
  "once there was a prince who fell in love with the sky.
  he never grew
  tired of his blue, grey, black, orange, ever-changing lover. till one
  day, he awoke but couldn't see, his eyes were clouded so he cried.
  he cried and cried and cried. the sky began to cry too.
  they washed out all the colours until the prince swore never
  to love again."
 the smoke clears and your face appears, teary-eyed with
 heartbreak written so sharp and jagged on your lips.
  "i'm tired of loving someone that won't love me back."
 i would have kissed you in all of your shattered pieces.
 but i didn't.

you have taken root somewhere inside me.* *The petals tickle.

i am better than no one
                                   no one is better than me.
i'll set the Earth on fire
then drown it.


in the sea....

fine then.

               i'll forgive a memory and condemn a feeling.
          

                                                               the arteries
bloodless fingers squeezing
               an expression silent.
          
                         press into gumlines - remind enamel
               no recastings will remain
                                                                           at the end of this.

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.

It's funny
Cause once upon a time
I believed love wouldn't **** you
But save you.

But now I know to respect
Love's
A serial killing paramedic.

Is it Poetry
to find beauty at the bottom
of a notepad
is it just scribbles & scratches.

Is it Poetry
to glimpse those love lines at your mouth-
how they remind me
of your cracked lipstick smudges.

Is it Poetry
to get lost in the library
to catch a wisp or wave- of your
electrostatic love.

But What IS Poetry.
The cascading colours
swinging, singing and dancing from this monitor.
From you.
                                                        Hello. Poetry.

How're you today?

With a thud you landed.
acting as if you planned it,
but we all knew your *** was hurting.
You were smiling still, a scrapped knee
but when you looked up your grin only got through to
me.
That was cute, till you asked for a hand up.
Didn't realise my mistake, when your wolf pup
eyes shimmered-pulling me down too.

Maybe this is why I fell in love with you.

There wasn't any malice or cruelty.
But neither affection-which hurt like hell.
See, I don't have a big tale to tell- but if I did
you'd be my opener.
Cause audiences love a one sided story.

the Moon is made more alive
by the waves
in ponds.

not unlike You.

whose beauty is held captive
momentarily
in every reflective surface,
whose fingerprints leave ichor
love letters
and a laugh like a forest fire.

i am bewitched. Lunacy.
yet it's a sad fate.

as it is impossible to attain
the Moon.

*Not unlike You.