the emptiness of the ribcage after picking up a weight that was too heavy to hold  
                        like bullet-shells in arteries
                        tearing up from the inside out
                        coughing up wounds that never close properly
entropic love consumes the sky     cloudwatching emotions
sitting alone                                       to make heads or tails of them
begging to be swallowed too          the winds had nothing to say

of course healing takes time  takes time  to  pay  back

each suture like silk each pin ***** a waymark

to be the song you play for others to listen too
                  to be listened to

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.

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

Two lovers standing
parallel on a street
late in Shorditch
graffiti came billowing
out from their ankles
spray painting their distance
in moments
like a gap in a kiss
could paint murals.

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

what was once Ivory
has now returned to granite
BOTH WE LIE, IN THE EARTH,
yet i.. i am still tortured with breath, with sight.

there is no need of voice.
i will hang on the farewell as it is a rope from Troy around my neck.
lull me down with you please, please, please. i am nothing but that.
there is nothing more to be said.

HOW DO YOU LIVE WHEN WHAT MADE YOU YOU IS DEAD?
(sleep in the wheat, i will be there soon.)
you find the quickest way to them instead.
                                                        ­          
                                 i am not sorry.

the fire at the corners of my eyes -
- smoke billowing -
- make blinking that much harder -
- once in awhile ash collects in an iris -
- a promise to burn things -
- blind.

I should of
   punched her.
       Made the blood awash
                with the concrete floor.
How dare she hurt you.
Lay her pathetic, puny hands that pry and peer
upon you.
I found myself biting my tongue
where I should've made her bite hers.
SMACK
came that connection all too fast
and where was I?
Lagging behind-last.
To rewind that cry, escaping your mouth to
shove it down her throat- choke and choke.
                
                                         ­              "Don't worry about those things"
I am your friend
you are my best friend
and its never happening again.

"Your true friends show themselves in the times of need."
-
So am i sick to
wish bad things
upon myself?
-
"No. But you are sick of loneliness."

deliberation deliberate
how different to consider;
and to do.
tell and wait
show and stall.
keep time in back pockets.
fish for change
and make a
pittance.
surely after words,
came reactions,
and after broken promises
came sanctions.

surely after it stopped burning
things began to grow.
stories of salt,
of salting.
an act to crystallise
and make barren,
make bare.

starting
ceasing.
how similar to filling up,
and filing down,
a feeling.

and at the closing
he promises and promises
the last scene is just
around another corner.

and the pile of clothes in the corner is
just a
pile of clothes
but i know things aren’t right.

that the burning in my mouth
the locking of bones and sinew
once a month between us
isn’t satiating.

the thing inside of me pulsing.

i’m a neck viewer
using his curls as curtains.
compromise
watching things burst from other things.

remember
monsters break apart their hosts in escape.

compulsion
emerges from the core because
of the nature of change.

back in the moment:
the screen darker than dark.
my need, this body horror
spills out of me.

-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.

Hi there Poet,

Your presence is always precious
here in my home,
Whether it’s lovesick confessions
or a need to not be alone.

These white walls and boxes
to which you can write any sins away,
or to just play dally with linguistic foxes,
to make quicker a boring day.

To scrawl out words black
to find redress and re-rhyme,
to release and not hold back
to find home-truths, to take your time.

I can take you at your word
be it dishevelled, battered or grey,
your weary voice can be heard
to make some weight fall away.

But now Dear Poet
it’s time to end this tune,
you’ve written a new one? Well show it,
the one hidden in your drafts since June.

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.

"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.

I found solace within a rock.
It encapsulates sunlight, a greedy absorber of:
Toxins, poisons. Maladies of an internal kind.
As it took whatever fear I gave, whatever fault I could find.

I found 31 and wrapped them around my wrist

To glance- remake, remind me:
That all fears dissapaite
In an amber coloured sea.

After a star
grants us it's brief blinding love-light.
They must burn to dust
somewhere out of sight.

For no heart can bear the weight
of seeing ones' love
in its true transient state.
But that only means
that your soul should change fate!

Nothing, no nothing remains as ash
No our hearts will not explode and crash!

We will find shelter
away from the falling stars, the blue-lighted Storm!
As I have sworn....

That we will live.           We will live.

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

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.

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

Perhaps in fact an acceptance
of
Not so common sense.

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.

if i wanted to hurt you
                        i would feed you my poetry,
                                                         then wean you off of it.
                                                  
                                         Out of spite.

the most painless way to leave is
non-arrival.
self sabotage as absentia.
the only loss
lacking malice.

i did not want you to get close because
i did not want you to get too close.

i did not want you to take up space for me as i did not
want you to want the same from me.

im not sorry i didn’t want you
im sorry you did want me

self-sabotage as non-arrival.
self-sabotage as a convincing half-truth.
self-sabotage as a refuge.
self-sabotage as the lesson.

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.

my heart is bronze.
patina ridden and decrepit
burning with rust and slaked with scars. it is too late for it. it's engravings are scratched through and through its middle lies dents and indents and doubts. Hollow ringing.
surface level decay.
but it's never enough is it?

it's never enough.

download instagram, download twitter, download what’s-app, download flickr,
update I-message, update linkedin,
restore photos from iCloud bin
back-up Tinder, back-up Scruff
X’d twitter, doomscrolled enough
access Pinterest, access Ring,
screenshot snapchat, Grindr ding

face-id open, passcode close
settings, delete find your iPhone
close friends, bank app, sort code,
messenger, poke, block, link, follow, repost livestream selfie be real location tag pin dropbox camera notes volume up siri off
Wi-Fi on,bluetooth disconnected 3G 4G 5G
which account do I logon?

safari, google, duck duck go
buy apple, by android,
huawai’s cheap though

forget this for you page
forget this Alexa home
forget this algorithmic poetry
forget this phone

You
      Could
                Of
                    Said
        ­                   Goodbye....
                                                     ­                                                     BUT
                                                                ­                                          NO
                    ­                                                                 ­                     YOU
                                        ­                                                                 ­ SWORE.


Never again, again.                                          NEVER AGAIN AGAIN.

                                      Your Heart Bleeds
                                            Our Glass Beads.

sitting on the roof tiles
stretching out tonight
i see our city blind itself in moonlight
i hear its call for someone to love it
like a newborn.
we should break its heart again.
                                                           it builds character
                                                           it should learn to mourn.

It's been an honour to break in front of you silently again and again but I've started to think that maybe it's lost it's intended effect-I mean you can only watch someone pick up the broken pieces and promise  it'll never feel hurt again just to crush them in palms that will never hold another's hand and feel them squeeze back without the blood slipping them just out of reach but not really-

a couple of times.
then it just seems desperate.