spring struggles from the ground
wet with winter
saplings searching for a sky
lusting for softer scents
a sound of radiance

every year,
the seasons feel more uneven
thirsty flowers screaming 'drink the downpour'
mycelium magic dreaming 'keep breathing'
in fear that the green wont reappear
burrow in decay till may
till smiles feel sincere
lying still
I'll listen to the roots gossip
until the tree grants me safety to resurface
to feel purpose I reserve

a dethawed metaphor
flesh of the dirt
just flirt with the earth
make it the world you deserve
cherish her
so bulbs burst fresh as you tease them
and the cold dissolves
indifferent to longing or worship
as she intended
like rutted enchantment

my feet are bare again
and summer grants me all I forget I live for

she used to crave symmetry
but recently she's been gorging on chaos
it fills her up but unfulfilling is the gap
opened by her loss

the more she pours into it
the more the cliff crumbles
into waves of need unfruitful

chaos leaves only debris
watch it swallowed
like your sorrow
by the relentless sea

I see signals in other women's heartache
and I don't want to be this miserable
portrayed by a thump thump and a catcall
reduced to a statue of lust
cracks in all the things I want to trust
so seduced by my stress
perplexed by the mess
of what's been said
he's a **** but,
in his head
he's infected by sincere ideas  
to strategize the fear he feels and creates
standing up to monsters you fed
then fled to be branded with curses
hummed under his breath
still i'm vexed by whispers that keep me awake
reminding me, how easy I break

Starting up you're all I want to touch
just us, half naked
weekends wasted
stripping, sniffing, sipping
its star splitting

you stain my brain
and thoughts on my sheets
its been weeks and I'll always choose you over sleep

you're smug
cos you think I'm in love
but you know I'm caving
the hum of your presence I'm craving
the lull of my lust misbehaving
all senses wavering
I stare my issues in the face

spiteful inflictions influx your world
this happiness is on borrowed time
as a sun bleeds beauty
my heels ***** with demise
staged under skies of potent paradise
and I've lost all sense of myself
smothered by mental health

there's toxicity to our proximity
that renders all possibilities for me
I sigh to leave behind heavy lies
but at least I'm half free from anxiety
and I can smoke again

yet there's more bad decisions in the shape of you
and we know its not true
but I decanter out the decadence
so I wont feel possession
obsession can maintain you
don't use it to sustain you

the complications spring my elations
hallucinations that restores clarity
tiny triggered spores open doors to expose your vanity
egos obscured what our reality ignores
as we explore each other's minds and sanity
potions of emotions keep the notion
that were not too eager for unhealthy devotion
we climb on frantic antics and struggle with the semantics
of what we want to say...

if we enjoyed being bored
not living for drama
reserving our pain
and deserving our karma

my cat scraps the shadows as
my mind maps the gallows
feasting on conspiracies of negativity
but hardly mindful to see
they'll always be a distraction
an infectious interaction
that puts things off track

mellowed attributes and more attention
make room for romance soon to be rotten
a spark of love so soon forgotten

apparatus attitudes
practice in ventriloquism of truth
an alchemist interlude
as I manoeuvre to conclude
these epiphanies are constant
then snoozed away
I don't owe you
in blue to choose these lazy ways
days of ***** are hazy with
drunken clues, to forget the thoughts
bought from the hangover before
this is gifted guilt but I know me by now
and its obscurely ordinary
to be deliciously disgusted by you

A fable you follow to re-define
you're just a drifting journey
Shifting as time reminds
The speed you want to observe
It's easy to swerve, rewind
and reminisce in the bliss
Stung with the force of a fist
Too naïve to privileges
Vows we've stained with sacrilege
Promises pained with a phantom kiss
Whispers of locked lands, levitation and foraging
Moonlight sour with forgiveness
investigations to find our minds myths

Trapped in an internal orchestra meditation
That binds us to the trees
Like you're tied to the sound of the sea
A separate generation
Entwined on the same path to be free
Triumph in a ship that sets course to breathe
Leaving better ways to make history

Crucial cemeteries of virtual memories
An abominable sorrow
The cockles of cuckoos fools food tomorrow
Hestia's restless with reckoning
Following fables less
Suppressed by the mess of her head
Following nonsense yet to be said
Follow the scent of juniper to bed
Burnt out fireplaces
Save your graces
for fables that subdue you to death

Home is an old red rucksack that my mother took round Chile
filled with my baggiest trackies for months
where home is trains and tubes and my headphones on coaches
Home is the rain when it batters the outside of a humble caravan
Home is a little wood burner, and a long green coat that was gifted unintentionally
and worn by many

Home is waiting for the triangle bus
Home is a cup of coffee in the right shaped mug
Home is a cigarette, shared with my sister in a pub
Home is our brother owning the pool table, modest and silent
Home is now the sea, but not in summer
mid-November waves, rough and lonely

Home is the river, the flow and the feeling
the fish and the constellations of a shared celling
Home is mums’ casserole and fresh bread still warm but under proved
Home is a shed, strangled with ivy
Home is tea and malt milk biscuits
Home is magic stars pasta beans and cheese and Netflix
Home is my duvet
Home is crumbs creeping into a lumpy mattress

Home is the day, lazy and underwhelming
Home is grandmas own tomatoes
Home is a laugh from an inside joke
Home is her long red hair, her stumbles and soup
Home is hazel eyes singing, by light from candles in old gin bottles

Home is a spoons breakfast with zero sleep
Home is a sink full of washing up
Home is cobwebs and a faded hoodie stained with paint and the smell of hash
Home is sharpened knife that can nicely slice when I am cooking to the bass my mini rig creates

Home is in the woods a maze of plot twists
mapped in childhoods haze of coordinates
Home holds smiles from guests and strangers who become family
Home is vats of marmalade, in sticky jars that collect dust they sit for so long
Home is the chorus of a Finley Quay song
Home is the journey I am on

Home is the field
the mud when its ripe beneath my toes
the grass worn with love
Home is a guitar (sandy with stickers)
I am home in her lyrics that swirl through the air
captivate by this Home we created
and our feet know the pattens of the beat
Home is the taste of freshly smashed melon
Home is a cluster of tents around a fire
and a tarp of scribbles

Home is the purr of Roo
Her velvet fur and trills of love
Home is an overgrown garden I used to tend to
Home is holly leaves transformed into wishes
Home is memories of butterfly kisses
Home is a hug when words aren't needed
Home is where I'm not alone

Home is him, the smell of his car and comfort of his arms
Home is his orange overalls
Home is a rhetorical question when I’m looking at his face