Just Too Big.

Three words sounds like nothing, but beneath there are fountains of knowledge.

Just- this is the word of no excuse,
it is the finalising phrase,
it cuffs off the gnarled edge of argument,
it stalls and betrays simpering,

Just suggests finality,
it muses over a resolution,
a simplicity,
JUST too big leaves no room for excuses,
no alternatives,
it is a cove,
a cover entrapping the heart,
merciless and without temptation.

Too - it suggests excess,
it reveals a limit,
there are boundaries in this world,
at one point it is not too big,
at one point the line is drawn,
we all step beside the line - either past or before,

there is a quota.

Big - large and luxurious,
grand and reaching,
looming,
rolling,
it is more,
it is much,
it is a caveat of treasured rolls,
big alone is nothing,
big in abstract, in isolation,
shielded in the tight embrace of a vacuum,
is meaningless,
but paired with Just,
paired with finality,
paired with Too,
paired with limits,

Big becomes itself,
and makes a name.

Big begins to suffocate.

Out, out, out,
so wide and overt,
so overflowing and grand,
when the belly button pops,
open like a cork,
spilling juices and fresh bubbles,
we let out crooked smiles grace
the night.

Out, out, out,
with windows handing agape,
out eyes closed,
but there are slits,
cracks in the walls,
crevasses and tunnels,
secret fortunes to be broken,
so that the wolves,
hidden and growling,
in the walls,
can shake their sodden pelts,
and poke wet noses into the light,
we watch,
from our stone beds,
our eyes narrowed hallways
of spies and
clandestine destiny.

Out, out, out,
the door is ajar,
one push,
and the world will lament,
and cease,
out, into the wildness,
there is wilderness in these rooms,
hallowed halls conceal jungle,
long looming forests,
the dark undergrowth that
hides decrepit creatures in shadow,
only eyes glinting,
there is a sublime here,
a mottled verse,
only those with their hearts out,
can be lent the care of others,
and see the secret beings hidden in the cracks.

me and you,
we go together like cherries and cream,
we're too sweet,
my teeth ache,
and the pip sticks in the back of your throat.

me and you,
its always in that order,
me then you,
and some days I regret it,
that our thoughts don't swirl together in a rainbow of unison,
but we're different people,
and I sometimes matter.

me and you,
I think long ago,
we might have been real,
but then,
the world woke up,
and righted itself.

me and you,
were just a bad dream,
and I've never been good,
at remembering.

the weaver never asks himself,
why the webs are so frail.

the songstress will always sing,
except if the world doesn't listen.

take my money
take my house
take my husband
take my body
take my heart
take my life

just leave me my boy.

“delusions of grandeur”

the boy
in the silk suit
black slick skin
a penguin's belt

he is nameless
or unrecognised
or in one universe
he is both
he is neither

the sun
is cut into shards
they spike
a slit throats
but we love the sun
even if it is cancerous

do not blame the sun
it doesn't mean to
we need the sun
it is up to you to protect yourself

the boy
buttoned up
to the neck
past the shoulders
down into the ground
up to the ceiling

he is more buttons than boy

he stands right
dead centre
in the circle of
sunlight
as if he were a deity

the boy feels
the air in
tight cuffs
around his wrists

he is free now

When the nip
of the curled lip
reaches the rallying
surface of paper,

there must be substance

One cannot decree over nothing
sounds may not exhaust
and sacrifice their whims
for the hopes of a deserted rebellion,

there must be truth

You forget
so often your mind mutes
it coils into the half alive
semi state
of being

You forget
that this land we walk
is already compact
and finished

We live in the future

there are no new buildings
all we stand upon
is the bones of old
and the uncorporeal
ghosts
of pioneers ideas

there is no new
nor is there new hardship
every pain in your blood
has been endured three fold
by those living

or not living

But yet we party

our hearts wild beastlies
our ears cocked and pelt upon ends
the swirling swells of music and chant
this ancient illustrious dance...

do not let yourself be bewitched by the past
for one day we will be it.

beauty,
it may seem an unworthy word,
aesthetically purposeless,
only for romantics,
only for the guileless,
the naive,
but one forgets,
that to see is to appreciate beauty,
and only the blind,
let their rose red lens,
fade to black.

impose,
& lose composure.
expose,
& forever foreclose.
repose,
& lose purpose.

Remember my darling,
imp,
there is no,
ex,
who can ever
re,
flect your true soul,
only jealous beggars
& bitter ghouls.

Mercy my mercurial madman,
thou t'will tame the timid treachery,
or one often offends others,
when we wilt wooden wisterias,
and assault an aviary's attachments,
don't dare die,
for friends from forever,
will,
never,
forget.

One wise merchant:
once tried to sell you a concept.

There you were,
lounging on the street,
like any half decent loiterer,
when this haphazardly placed shawl,
bumped you to a wall.

Tattoos fluttered along their brow,
their mouth shimmied from one thought to the next,
and this,
gypsy of a fool,
was trying to sell
the thought
that you would die.

Knife to throat,
fist to rib,
eye to eye,
it was a convincing proposition,

but ultimately,
only a salesman's pitch.

You wonder,
ears curled in on themselves like hunched over drunkards,
when your art became objects.

The artifacts hang,
from frayed skeleton string,
stretched and whittled like string-bean veins.

Your hand itches,
like distilled water as thunder growls overhead,
and you know it is reaching for a pen.

No longer,
can you stare into the mirrored engravings,
and see fleshed out  words.

Scant nothings,
hum their prayers up into the sky,
but you do not follow.

There is,
time for you yet,
and art is not reality.

A milky veil trickles across your window,
it has the same consistency as cloud,
and as fingers run from edge to edge,
you sigh, as if pleasured, by this translucent skin.

Your body is as still as stone,
neither lungs lifts its arms to heave,
rather you are stagnant, and dead,
like dust.

The room is round,
you wonder if rolling along the walls is,
a bit not great,
but still descend down the ***** of portrait to portrait.

There is no depth, nor charity,
within or outside this room,
but somewhere, in the walls,
you once thought you heard a voice.

It was silky, and thin,
like the air swallowed at the peak of a cliff,
huffed in and out like last breaths,
stale like last meals, except it was perfect.

This hollow chant does not pass,
it hedges on the oval of your palm,
and as you splash your face with
milky flesh, the life returns.

In every poem
I have ever written
there is a character
somewhere
hidden beneath the folds of text
and enjambment

The sleuth
is its name
gained by
the unmistakable nebulous nature
of its very flesh

I have never
in all my shallow time alive
been witness the sleuth in
a natural habitat

for the sole reason
that the sleuth
this hidden unfathomable
being
has no nature
or preoccupation

It is alien
of the highest calibre
and will exist
long after
my poems
stop
unfolding
their
wings.

We wish we were younger -
when every flaking drift of sleet was magic
and the crinkles around father's brow
was a historic moment
laughter was common place
exploration seeped into the skin
and our own wonder lay exotic yet forgotten

We wish we were older-
so that the wisdom we yearn has already arrived
so that we open our eyes and see
echoes of the kaleidoscope of life we always wish to see

so that meaning is more than stripes on a dashboard
and we look back and smile winsome and fresh
with yellow tinted teas and teeth
eyes twinkling with ancient promise

if we're older we made it,
and there is temptation in such security,
to wish away one's precious moments

We wish the clocks would tick back-
so that time was more forgiving
quiet and prehistoric
with large looming dinosaur trees caressing our flesh and sights
we could breathe once in a while
our eyes may flicker away from the day and into the sky
and at night we would lay beneath a blanket of boundless wonder

back then,
no one knew what lay in the stars,
so angels existed in more than dreams and
wishes

We wish for the world to end-
the fires raging in our hearts
catching alight at every stray ember
from the black choked plumes of smoke,

we want the burn
the pain
we want to feel it
to live
and breathe it
until
our lungs collapse

we would huddle like slick pelted penguins
a barricade of togetherness
the furies of nature fighting back would unite us
and some long for the seductress of community
to hold us and embrace us like our tech-enslaved mothers never did

We wish for the years to pause, then fold in on themselves-
and we would awaken
from stasis
with wild brains and gaping mouths
lips forever parted in childhood wonder
at the indescribable nature of the future

there is always hope in the future,
for the future is everything
we seek
but never eventuate

we wish,
we surrender,
we pledge our souls to the almighty cause,
never once pausing,
in Our time
to think that
if we let it

this could be paradise.

I am married to my brain,
its a
life long
partnership
that I
never agreed to.

When did you
decide
to be born,
is it not
a violation
to split
the thread
of the universe
with your
birth
like a
bullet
to the
brain.

We're in love,
you see,
deeply
submerged
in each
other,

we'll never part,
or,
we'll positively die
if we do.

Marriage is a
battle,
its a
war zone,
but in ours
there are no words,
only thoughts,
that never leave,

until
we part,
until
death do us part.

And my brain
wants
a
divorce.

A monster
lies in wait
shrouded in dark
festooned in
onyx curls
of brilliant
disguise

its teeth
are as long
as my arms
and I wonder
how long
it has hidden
in my veins
like poison
its nails
brushing against
the bed
of my own

I dare not blink
not sleep
don't move
I am insensate
and frozen
this pitiful
state
has only just
begun
but it feels
as if I have
layed here
for eternity

the monster
never leaves
although
sometimes
it sleeps
and I taste
the infuriating tease
of lush reprieve

it always
comes back
no matter
how far
I shove
it down.

Maybe there is a reason for that.

historians
behold the treasures
of old

singers
paint the
words you
wish you could
say

mothers
cradle
and fathers
embrace
brothers
sigh with resigned impatience
and sisters
fuss

but
from all that
there is one
person
you love

the boy
in the
plaid
striped
coat
dyed
indigo

for he
just
called you
"love"
with those
startling
indigo
sunset
eyes
forced open wide

a crooked smile
with
just the right
degree of wild

that moment
split second
caught within
the beat
of the heart
and the
exhale
of the lung
and the
semi
half
demi
quarter
turn
of the gnarled nail

in that
infinitesimal breath
of denial and deep surrender

the world creaks

and the window shatters
into a rainbow of glittering shards
and you sing
and dance
in the guilty pleasurable rain
your skin rattles
with the hydra's teeth
scaled dry fingers
gripping your own leg

and yet you dance
and stare so longingly

Bright star

of open shine

large lungfuls

of Christmas pine

Bright sun

sandy shore

never forget

remainder's moore

Bright child

with hollowed skull

the only wish

to resist the pull

Bright coin

shiny skin

pretentious gleam

of wealthy sin

Lips do not close themselves,
there is always a maker behind the shelves,
a tall and looming frightful me,
oh if only I could blink and let it be.

Do not let your eyes reflect,
the subtle sadness of intellect,
is all a lie, a gentle hack,
when you open your eyes you can't look back.

Mournful doves on willow's peak,
their braided wails and whittled beak,
do heed their call, a cry so shrill,
for in ending remains only nature's will.

welcome to the
haunted hallowed hawthorn
home
we open our
skeletal facsimile
beams
and let you
in

down
down
follow the
whispered chant
it will
beckon
it will
taste
but never
shall you
deign it
'surrender'

fluttered pieces
flickered flesh
muttered misters
and loneliness

we chastise
the vacuous abyss
of your eyes

blink

i dare you

will you
gaze
your grips
on fettered
sounds
the imprisoned
moans
of innocent
souls
it bites, it cleaves, it runs, it rams

but does it sing, my darl?
does it light up your world?

their treasured yawn
is taste enough
so hear me,
hear me,
for naught but the buttered price
of
princely royalty.

he
didn't like the way she had methodically seduced him

– as if he were simply a puzzle
to mechanically solve and destroy
like clockwork
tick tock tick tock
and now you use your tongue
to become the catalyst of his undoing -

then shoved him,
harshly
(the ice cold feel
of frozen wall
still hung
in phantom touches
against his bridged back)
kissed him,
roved his mouth,
placed her tongue in his lips,
under his tongue,
on his cheek,
under his skin,
under his flesh,
under his bones,
in his bones,
in his heart,
in his brain,
can't get rid of her,
and marked him.

He didn't like the feeling of being prey,
of preyness

my heart likes your lips
and my toes curl like your hair
so of course its love.

The stubble tells a story:

got up. drunk. head pounding. knew i'd had too much last night. fridge is full. what did i sell. what do i have to do to get it back. i need more. more. fills me. the calm. i have it under control. but I need more.

razor. gone.

choice: razor or drink.
choice: razor or drugs.
choice: razor or rent.
choice: razor or girlfriend.
choice: razor or smokes.

not really a choice.

Most winsome,
most fresh,
appealing
so delicious
to the naked eye
and
naked flesh

gorgeous skin
that reaches
so far
not an inch
that is
not captivating
is not
alluring

so provocative
the stance
the eyes
the glow
the dimmed fire
the heat

so entrapping
let it linger on your tongue
let the taste remain
decadence at its
most
entrancing

the dance
the swing
the pull and push and shudder
lift her high
lift the disembodied
leg
up as you sway
let the dip
reach the tangled
ends of the
soiled floor
let grass leech up
grip tightly to your ankles
as you twirl
connected only
by the most
finite of toes

breathe,
honey badger,
through the nose
let the smell
waft
like summer winds
and winter rains
the sky blooms green for you
aurora aurora
'tis not science
but magic
evanescent in its passing
only a flicker in time

she holds the moon in her arms
it falls heavy like a babe's head
it murmurs against her hairy skin
her smile is not quite a smile,
but a charm,
it twinkles,
tinkles,
crinkles,
chimes and sings,
as the wind rubs against it
like warm farm hands

the callouses
have such candor
care for such softness
one would imagine that
it was not
only a visualisation
not only a whisper of the night
but tangible to be held

all you see,
is all you get,
and all you get,
is only half true.

Harrowed eyes
beckon
from the
shades of
jacaranda branches

it is
almost poetic
how false
true pain
can
shine

almost
like a
lip
bitten and
hacked
down to
the
stumps of
flesh
trying to
pursue
a mimicry
of joy

'oh hail'
'oh hail'
the sunshine
bellows
from the
gallows
the glinting
rusted
metal
so alike
your eyes

'oh rain'
'oh rain'
'Tis not
rain but
mellowed
waterfalls
falling from
the heavens
with the
most
regal
of graces

'oh mine'
'oh mine'
the haunted
quail
of a
hunter
beneath
jacaranda shades
rattles
and hisses
like the
exotic beast
within her skin

'oh do'
'oh nay'
is the echoed
tantalizing
that never
lets up.

Vindicated words
hang
like chandeliers
from the
cracked and
aching
ceiling

it groans
in protest
as the heavy
glass
glimmers
with deep
and
gloating
insincerity

the words
feel like
the most gently
brush of
poisonous
knuckles
against the
curve
of her
jaw

her teeth ache
and she
thinks
the cause
is not
one to
investigate

the poison
gently
romances
its
way
down the
train tracks
of her
pores
through the tunnel
of bridge
down
into the enamel
of
fluttering
chin

it seeps
into the
teeth that
clench

not in pain.

they can't feel it
yet.

the gums
quiver
as the
smile
pulls chapped lips
like small shards
of hard glass
have been wedged
between the valleys
of soft and subtle
skin.

smile.

doesn't hurt
to smile

the voice
that asks her
is not one
that truly
cares whether
she agrees

it is a voice
that only wishes
to let out its
sails
and
swim
on its own chords
to let the rumble
in its chest
disperse
from thought to fact
from the desire to the tangible

its only longing
is to be corporeal
to feel
to exist there
to be palpable
to be the humidity
that squeezes
ever so tightly
on the bone
until the blood
evacuates and
all that is left
is bleached and

alone

exist,
its easy
its painless
there is no cost.

the lips
never
promised
that they
told the
truth

the adams apple
bobs
like the water
is sloshing
the sides
and the heads
are slapping
against the
fine surface
that is festival

the red tinge
spreads as smooth
as butter
against the paleness
of your lips
and you smile
that icy
wax drawn
carriage
until your teeth
shine
as pale
as a fireflies
wing.

Carry on
let the hands
unfold
and twist
and turn
dance in the
glade
that holds you tight
and whisks you
like fine
yolk

the fairies
prattle
is unintelligable
but still
as sweet
as the
most brilliant
cake
their burbles
and blooms
and blusters
and blushes
are finite
and magnificent
fodder for your
cannons

for your heart beats

the poem escapes you
and your lips close
and a beat passes
in which the world
halts its turn
and in turn
hauls your
pretty little behind
out of the mess
you caused

don't say
we didn't
hold you
because
our fingerprints
are all
over
your
blushing
stagnant
muscles

twitch,
and the
fairies sing.

Translate my
confusion for me
so I can
breathe right
and think
clearly.

Make me see
I beg you please
the way out
of this trap
I have
built for myself

I know
I will be okay
I feel it
deep down
in my bones
but right now
I am not
in my bones
I am
in the mists
and wisps
of my
strangling mind

I can't breathe right
I can't think
I need to know
the future
before I shatter
like cheap china
and leave my
feet ******
as I race
across the kitchen
floors

beg of you
let this feeling end
I am an
endangered species
wandering through
times that don't match
and junctions that
are dead ends
I want a road
that I can follow
with my eyes
closed
and my hands
tied
and my legs

curdled into mush

and my chest
hot like fire
and my heart
stopped
and my thoughts
in disrepair

build be a river
so I can cry
and no one can
see
and ask
me

I need to be alone
but that is the most
dangerous time
of all

I am a savage beast
contained in milky
translucent
skin
my gums ache where
the fangs beg
for freedom

my heart shutters
I want to live
but I can't seem
to breathe right

Moonlight:


I think it is time
to stop this kerfuffle soon
before it has won

the achy heart pounds
it does not understand me
rather it would fight

my ears curl like leaves
they resemble elven sharps
they quiver so kind

maybe I have wrought
the tides to sweep me home to rest
and loose my stiff bones

a child does not ask
why a man holds his tongue well
do not ask me twice

the tree is evil
its bark collapsed by its plan
and I watched it fall

do not rhyme or sleep
slumber is for the deadened
sheep count so beguiled

my heart likes your lips
and my toes curl like your hair
so of course its love.

'funny of you to come and watch me'

she asks
legs folded
prim and
primed
and
proper
eyelashes like
windswept shades
shadows of
claws
against the
soft fabric
of her
eyes

'maybe it was fated we meet here'

it is
her home
afterall
what luck
they would
both meet
in her
home

'its not
breaking in
when you
left the
door open'

she is not
impressed
and I
can relate
to the
subtle
curl
of her
rogue lips
like she
just tasted
ash
and it
reminded her
of the
empty
fireplace.

'its rude
to knock'

'I have
a bell
for a
reason'

'I was busy
before you
came.'

its a lie
clear as day
cut as fine
as bread
rough and
hacked
like
flesh
she lifts a
nail
letting it
swish
like evening
gowns
and
fluttered
mascara

'its rude
to knock'

she said

and the room
emptied.

You ask me
why am I so loud

why does the sound boil
broil and thunder in my chest
rise up like the wave
vibrate in the soiled earth
pull up and out
strands of melancholy
rageful sound falling listlessly
in heavy breaths
why do my eyes widen
as the screams
leave my lips
and the suffocating noise
burns at your ears
why do my hands shake
my knees tremble under my own
inevitable fall, the weight
the heave
the haul
why do I shake so
why do my lips quiver
like the aching strings
of an odious and
thrumming violin
why does my heart pound
so loud
in sync with my voice

and when the sound drops away
and the room falls silent
and the penny drops
with a clatter
that disrupts the tension
why does the quiet fall so easily
and the blame so succinctly
and why does the shaking
stop
and the numbness
cloud over my eyes
and lips
like mists engulfing the
echo of the
waterfalls crash
against hell or high water
the pale flush of the drained noise
of the quiet within the storm
beckoned by the aching lightning that
holds no sound
and only sharp flashes
why do I sit so poised
legs curled elegantly
eyes half lidded as I let
it wash over you
the crusted horses of that
frothing tide
how can I be so serene
when the walls have trembled
in the wake of my
shaking shouts
in the corruption of my
dark and heady
complexion

am I truly there
to speak
or was it only
in the gallows
of my treacherous mind
to dream up such
madness
that I

girl of quiet

could speak up.

I believe it to be
an impasse we have become
the segway between
two paths that
end up in the
same place

feel the sand
the crunch
the curl and
hauling arms
that cling tightly
to your chilled
skin

withdraw yourself
from the segway
of your own creation

there are
other ways
to walk

do not
remove
your shoes

keep walking

whisper, whisper
is that the wind in my hair
is that your fingers tracing my scalp
are you holding me now
whisper, whisper
are you sweet
sweet as nothings
sweet sugar achy teeth
do you smell the rot beneath the sweetness
the nectar that dips low on the neck
of your heart

of the vest
you wear
so well

do not remove your shoes
do not let your feet touch dew
do not feel the goosebumps
do not feel it

keep walking

whisper, whisper
nudge, nudge
they know now
their eyes betray them
they gleam like pristine canines
a howling dislocated jaw to
let the water flood in the chest

breathe
deep
breathe

keep walking

keep your eyes straight
as a ruler
as flat as the evening sky
the orange is folded in half
it is shackled on your
hair raised biceps

you bleed orange now

it is beautiful
not scary
you are not scared any longer

keep walking

courage girl
hold your head high
tilt your neck up
it is not submission
it is not fear to show your neck
you are courage girl
you are fiery
you are sparkling
listen to the whisper that
sounds so loud in your ears

keep walking

one day you will get there

Hold it
close
hold it
let your hands
shiver ever so
slightly
the tiny quake
like a ripple
of water
dropped against a
roaring sea
let your hands
clasp
grip tightly
you may fall
do not fear
grip tightly
your tenacity will
serve you well
do not forget
that revenge
is a dish
best served
with tears and
shaky
quaking
quivering
bitter-sweet smiles
hold it, baby
hold it close
right up
until it pools
under your shaking bones
under the bells that clang
so loud within the holster of your heart
the rattling of the skeleton's smile
so crooked and old
worn and torn
white, pristine teeth, that gape from that
holey
presence
hold it
tighter
until the tips of your fingers ache slightly
bruises bursting like cherry's blood under the skin
feel the pulse
the throb
the reminder that you are alive
you are alive, darling, hold it like a baby
a newborn
soft, darling, soft and full of possibilities
let it cry out for you
let it call out your name in garbled language
let the eyes open to look into your own

and then
let your fingers lax
your eyes flutter shut
half lid your lips to part, gently like the first opening blossom of the first springtime bud
let the child go

fall

down like water
from your tight embrace.

Deep breaths.

Its easy.

She is an
envious spirit
her eyes
flash green
sharp in the
soft candlelight

she wants to
burn the books
she wants to
burn the books
she is jealous
of the work
they make
the opalescent work
that shimmers
in different shades
and causes her to
cry

to think
as if
she was
not the
one.

Her envy
is borne

her envy
is born
of her
own hatred
for her
own self

it burns
it sparks
it explodes
like fireworks
in the night
the ache in the stomach
the buzzing in the ears
the numbness that overtakes
the tingles that run down veins
the tightness of the chest
the cheeks that seem wet

and burn

the throat burns

and is it?


Tears

tear her limb from limb
burn her before she can
burn those blessed books
before she

catches flint
and stone
feels the
chill of the
burning rocks
crashes one
and two
together like
orbiting moons

that spark
that falls
from within
her undulating
chest

her panting breaths
that hiccup
and stumble
and beg for
forgiveness
in the meadow
filled of beautiful
wisterias
lavender splintering
so esoteric
wisdom bred
and
arched for the
dolloped breath
of that
sunlight


which is to mean
her soul
battling
in the
garden of Eden
her soul
fighting those
calm
secure
others who

have their
heads on
right.

She is envy
is personified
feeling
of self hate
moulded to
mistrust
moulded to

action

burn the books.

Being that drifts
with no ripple
in the movements
of time

there is no
substance
to this figure
that walks through
the lonely mists

it was born
to be
a traveller
of its own
soul

it was born
to walk
on
whispers of
memories
never quite there

its heart is
like boulders
heavy and
cracked
never bending
bruising
or breaking
the ends shaking
it is shaking

walk on.

Do not look her in the eye
she will snare you
with her falsehoods
that seep like
oozing wounds
from those festering eyes

she is traitorous
do not look at her
when she cries
she is crying for
your attention
she does not need
help
she is crying
because she is
drama

she is queen of
elegantly saving
herself last minute
if she wants
to die
then let her
not like she
will
its all
just
fake

she's
fake

don't look at her
she will scrabble
under your own
bleeding skin
we all have problems
ignore hers
its not
like there's
no one
there

someone will look
it doesn't have
to be you

please
she is
only a
child
she needs
to be
taught
a
lesson
in humility
crying kids
don't get
hugs from
their mothers
crying kids
get locked
in dark
rooms
until they
stop crying
and start
bleeding on
the
inside

she isn't crying
anymore
just screaming
just screaming like a
banshee
she's disrupting
the peaceful
facade we have
constructed

silence
her

do it
she is
lying

do it

don't listen to her
pleads
she is not being
hurt
she needs to
stop
this
madness

please
hurt
her

see if she
cant take it

she is not a real girl
you know
she can take it
you know
its just words
you know
no marks but the ones she leaves
you know
no tears but the ones she brings on herself
you know

when she cries
its just for
silence
which makes her
stupid
because her room
is a
quiet and
lonely place
before she
starts to
make a sound

listen to that
its gone

she's gone

I tried
to die
last night
and its
the oddest
feeling
the next morning

as if doors
for a
whole life
I had
wished away
have opened
up again

I can dream
again
can cry a
thousand tears
can give
life
and
give death
I am
endless
possibilities
once more
even such
as
getting
better

I tried
to die
last night
and now
I have
to go
to school
and hide
my newest
scars

I don't
normally
do so
in an
obvious
spot but
I didn't
care
last night
I was
free
last night
my wings
were out
and open
I was
flying with
the peril
of my own
last night
I didn't
think
about
tomorrow
only those
last moments

I didn't
write a
note
I didn't
let anyone
know
except
the support
group of
machines
on the
internet

I tried
to die
last night
and now
I don't
know what
to do
with myself
I have
so much
time once
again
and the
pain is back
brimming
under the
surface

its always
there

I tried
to die
and this
morning
I remember
my reasons
and scoff
at my
own attempt

I flex
my wrist
and feel
the burn
of those
newly healed
scabs
glaring at
me
from the
trickling morning
light

the light
which
murmurs
in my
ear that
I have
survived
the night

I feel
so proud
and
ashamed
because every
second
living is
another
badge on my
sash
another sticker
added to
my growing chart
another birthday
cake
another hug
from my
dearest friend
another day
of chasing
those dreams
that are
still there

and it
lets me
know
that I
still have
fight
left

and it
lets me
know
that I
still have
someone
to fight.

This chasm is fathomless,
it falls
deep down
into the pits
beneath my stomach
built in
bones and flesh

it tingles within me
purrs with
unruly fury
when left alone
I feed it
fill it
compress it
down down into the
dark depths of my soul
so it will not
climb up
through the pit
skeleton limbs clanking like bells
until it
finally reaches my
delicate throat
and clamps down

I feel the
need of completeness
to feel full
it likes the taste
of my torment
the feel of
pins scraping my
limbs
it likes the
bile in my throat
the alluring look
of my
swirled content
in the sink
it gurgles my anxious
singing
it swirls my
desperate pleading
like fine wine
it loves the
gentle brush
of bloodied
fingers against a
trembling torso
that twitches in betrayal

it feels full
when I am torn
am split
between the
need to fill
and the need
to live

it smiles that
cruel and
cracked stretch of its
dark mouth
echoes of
taunts spilling
like the curls
from the print of
long forgotten
love letters

it is blackmail
to have
the choice of
feeding such a
dark hole with
tears or
morsels
the guilty taste of
those morsels
free of the
confines of my insides
the shame of the
tingles across
veins and
upturned limbs
of pale flesh sparkling
with glittering glee
begging for me

begging for me

to feel so full
yet so empty
and always
needing more

Blessed nightmares
ghouls and phantoms of
crystalised snow storms
that swirl around me
and catch my breath

it frosts
silent in the
winter's air
all stiffened in the
brittle wind
daring not to
move
holding the
spine straight
and
back still
cursed by the
fright
of waking the
monsters deep
within

laughter echoes
along the empty moors
grasses swaying stiffly
reluctant to dance
in the forceful wind
the high and roiling sound
rolls over the
curling hills
and down into
the
curdled bellies
of those
listening in

they sway
like porcelin dolls
crooked and cracked
solid and balanced
faces reflecting the
unforgiving light
that shines like
torch beams against the
soft nectar of their
pupils

they dance
the winter chalice
lips parted
as haunted
mellowed
tunes
fall from their tongues
and
soak into the
sodden soil
with
the desire
of
warmth

their fingers flush with cold
shivering
quivering
ever so slightly
as the
turrets of storm
pick up
and the
roaring of the
turbines
crackle their
clinking bones
against themselves
they clang
like rust
in the
bleak winter sun
hallowed hearts
beating
by force of nature
and
not
by choice.

She tastes
of clichés
and words
that I
like to
swallow

her cherry
chapstick
lip gloss
that I can
still feel
against me
dried like
blood
against my
subtle skin

she had
breathed hot
in my ear
and I
could still
feel the
heat in
my
undulating
chest

she smelt
of summer
sun
that shone
in my
eyes and
blinded me
but I
got used
to

she let me
hold her
let me
see her
vulnerable
and open

she tasted

so good

Cry for the moon
he whispered
into the crown of
her hair

the golden light
that sent shivers
down her
open arms

cry for me
she said back
breath but a wisp
voice caught and chained

he looked to the sky
not baring to stare
into her slated and
burning eyes

they asked too many questions
demanded the want that
he could not supply
she was one of them

the moon shone so
solitary in the sky
above and dripping
light against the darkened blanket

he held shaking fingers
to the sky
looked through the gaps
that seemed to large

she wept for the moon
that reminded her
of her own loneliness

even surrounded by stars

Dew drops
of
passion I have
left behind
stain my
lawn
like your
toxic
tears
never could.

I can get
pretty cruel
but only
when provoked
and I try
not to.

She is darkest of fears
is walking monster
is teeth out to ****
is eyes out to burn
is claws
extended
over the
throat

and sometimes
it is
her
own
throat

she is ******
is doomed
is rammed and
roomed into
small shells of
her own
violation and
creation

she is
whiskered tigress
howling at the
moon because
its so
shiny and she
can only
pretend
she is not
monster thing
is not
suffering
is not
spluttering as
the waves come
in and
drown her
with the fury
of its own
fire

sometimes
she lets them
she lets them
shut the door
and walk
into her
dankly
darkly
room

she waits
for company
to sheath
her sword

it glitters
from the
ruby red tears
that drip
from her wrist
from her neck
from the inside
soles
of her
legs
and she
whispers
sorrows of the
moon
her own
sorrows
she sometimes
let the
rubies
shimmer
inside herself
sometimes
lets them out

she sometimes
bites
the jugular
of the
man with rubies
who
only
wants
to help.

She is
helpless
beast.

He glitters
with the
empty valleys
of his
own
beautiful
treachery

such beauty
on one
human
is surely
a sin

is surely
the thief
that has
stolen
my breath

is surely
the eyes
that burn
blushes against
my
arched
skull

he is
more than
what he
seems

it is
fated so
that he would
be
magical
and
mirthless
and

miraculous

She is traveller,
is sailors boot tied
until the leather
pinches her skin
tight.

She is moon gazer
star stealer
eyes bright with
adventure as her
limbs turn like
windmills
against the
setting sea.

She is tilted axis
is turned to the
stars that are
turned down
to watch over
as she swims
on an
ocean that
always remembers and
never forgives
that curdles her
insides
cuts at her
soft flesh
like razor blades or

human
nails

that curl in her
insides
she has no
hand hold
to dock herself
no boat to
lay her
weary feet
only
cursed waves that
reach up
up
up
u
p
into her
chest
that squeeze
at her
heart
and lay

dormant

in her
stomach.

She is hunter
darkened eyes that
reach down
into the undergrowth
with feathered gracefulness

gratefulness

that is reflected
in her
many scales.

She is

what she

is.

Nothing more

Nothing.