I am the truth hiding behind your lies,
the joke that pounds like dynamite in your skull,
the whispered presence that calls for salvation,
the darkened eyes of the boy next door who looks

so haunted.

I am the truth,
hiding within your smile,
within the
flecks of gold
and sparkles
in your eyes,
the smile that
never ceases
and
never stops,
the smile that
makes me
wonder what is

real enough.

I am the vaulted raindrop that hangs in your hair,
I cling to you, so tightly, my arms around your chest,
my cheekbone rests gentle on your
morning wrinkles
the eyes that do not wish
to open
the sleep that
makes you
frown
a worker's
grimace,
the drop that
adds to
your wrinkles
to your
sopping
hair that
never seems
to dry,
I stare from above your mountain,
taking vantage of your morning route,
listening to the
whispers
which you
brush to the side

they're not real.

The dark eyes
of the one
you love the most
and
always forgive
no matter
the consequence
hang
silent
deadly
titled up
to the drowning sky
teeth pulled back
jaw out and
empty
for the howls
to fill

she wears black
to
camouflage
her

her bright
skin,
its canvas
is so
pale that
sometimes
she thinks
she can
carve
into her
own flesh

you swallow
in disgust
bees burrowing
down into
the rocky
falls of her
bottomless
stomach
the buzzing
sounding
so loud
from your
vantage point
of looking down
into the
fathomless
pits
of her
soul

you ache as
she
feasts
on your
raw and
tender
juices

blood is the
sweetest
wine
she whispers
voice thick
with lust
as your
veins
pound
against
your skin
she looks
like she
could
swallow
you whole

and you
feel
like you
could
let her

she licks
her lips
for she
so loves
the flavour
of
torment

she is monster
is devil blood
is canines
tearing
against the
scarred fabric
of your
skin
is forgiveable
is only animal
is mindless
is drenched from
head to toe
in the rain
that comes
pouring down
from the heavens

she is
still not
clean
she is
still
******
pretending
the lipstick
she wears
is

animal
friendly.

I have nothing beautiful left to say,
only the awkward sound of the
crinkled up chip packet
the crumbs dust my fingers
like police ink on my thumbs
and I lick them clean
blood painting my tongue red and
heartwarming.

I am empty within my eyes,
only left with soulless husks of
before
before the wind howled my bedroom shut
before the screaming storm hid my screams
before the rain that trickled in through the cracks in the ceiling
hid my tears from sight
before the footsteps that banged like metal plates
hid the fist banged against the inside of my cavernous mouth.

I am full,
expanded like a hot air balloon
filled to the brim until my
throat is slicked in slimy truths
and my stomach pushes at my
ribs
my heart hangs heavy like Christmas baubles
within the cavity of my chest
which is slowly being
filled by the
butterflies brewing
within my tonsils.

Words creep up
my arms like
many knives
aiming for the
blue railway tracks
of my
veins
they always
pump too loud
in my ears
I can't focus
on the
vitriol
thoughts in
my head
which demand
so much
that I
cannot give

I scream for
mercy that
I
do not
deserve

for the shadowed
woman
on the wall
to lay down
her gun
and hold me
so our
hearts sync
and the
world doesn't
hurt so
badly
anymore

I pray for
the
demons in
my skull
and chest
to
quit
their
racket
and let me
sleep

perhaps

eternal
sleep would
be
the
answer
but I am
competitive
and I would
hate
to let
them win

I ice my
feet
so when
I am
running
on the
thin ice
that holds me
like
chicken wire
fences and
tight skirt netting
so I can
slide through
the candlelight
and
emerge
a glorious
beast in the
darkness of
the nightmares

I look to
the
window
on my
left

hands
banging
incessantly
on the pane
I feel the pane
of bruised
fingers
and gums
as I
grit my
teeth and cage
the
screams that
long to
escape
I hold a
prisoner
in my
chest
that dances
like the
stomping of those
elephants
the beating
of my
breathing
living
consuming
heart
it pulls me
under

I let
it take me
down

until the
city lights are
reflected
in the
darkened
swampland

that is the

body of my

body of my

lake and
I swim
deep past
the
other
corpses
to the
sunken ships
and
skeletons with
hollowed eyes

I can
only stare
as my
life flashes
in sparks
of engine
ignites

of stars
flickering
twinkling
in and
out of
existence like
the sparkle
on the teardrop
from my
lover's
starburst
eyes

She holds her hand
to her heart
ears thrumming
like beating drums
from the thumping
that courses like
drugs
under her
golden
skin

She lets air
flood her
lungs full
her eyes
open wide as
she
lets the
tide of
darkness
filter down
into her
vision

she is
monster girl
is
child of
night
is star flecked
freckles and
evening soda
luke warm and
bubbles that
drip
sticky
like blood
down her
cheeks

the tears
taste like
ruined salt
unfiltered and
*****
like her
coarse tongue

she wails
to the
evening moon
which
shines with such
mellifluous
glee
cruelled
amusement
tenderised by the
beating down
upon her
soggy and
dribbling
heart

red paints
the
nails like
polish
she
puffs hot
and
heavy breaths
against the
metallic gleam
her teeth
shine like
canines
from the
howling terrors
of the
engulfing
forest

she howls
to the moon
which shines
with such
jealousy
for she
is more
mysterious.

She tells me it is
only poetry.

It is only words
writ from her fingers
only similes and
metaphors for
the empathy she possesses
it is not her
she says
she does not
think or feel
in this noticeable way
she is not a wall
for others to break
she is not a
canvas for her own
fingers to draw upon
she is not the sun that is
blinding her
she does not look away from
herself.

She does not stare
too long
into the reflective
mirrors that do not
catalogue her
soul.

She does not stare
she tells me
she does not write
she tells me
it writes her
it consumes her
it flows from the sunlight
rays that
hit through the
blocked up
shards of her
open window

she does not
sit on the sill
and wonder

she only writes it
it is not her own
hand that curls the letters
it is not her own poetry
she tells me
it is only words
it does not
feel the
way she
does.

She tells me
she has not written
herself
onto a page
has no blood
or tears
imprinted
upon those
leafs of
paper.

I know
if I
were to pull
up her
sleeve
I would
find
scars.

She tells me
it is only
a poem.

Run boy

let the wind
rush wish
to catch up
with your
motorised limbs

let the
sun set
falling want to
coo as
quick as
you can
race your
weary
smile

let the sky
and the
nighted blanket
have envy
of your
magnanimous
retreat

remember
the starry
eyes of
that boy
you
whispered
goodbyes
to
on his neck
like kisses
like
gentle breaths
like promises
the whiskered
kitten in
your heart
which purred
as he
held
your hand
so tight
you
could barely
stop the
wilted
smile
and
flooded
heartbeats from
drowning you
whole

he held
your hand
so
tight
you thought
he
wanted
to  
run too.

Nail
half crescent
imprints
of fossilised
hands
they hold you
you trace the scars
they hold you
and you
wish they
would keep
on holding on
as you
run.

Run boy
run into the sun
let the
memories
of open fields and
flower chains
and dotted kisses
trace your
heart with
strength
let yourself
run
until the
city walls are
snowflakes
against the
mountain
until your home
is only
a house
in your dreams
until he

until he is
only a shadow
on the
horizon
and you can
keep on
running
with his
words
on the backs
of your feet.

'love you.'

Run boy
so one day
you can
run on back
and

take him
with you.