No, I’m not doing anything,
With all this time and all the rosemary in your eyes,
Or my eyes,
One day I will live in Italy,
And I will have a garden,
With herbs and clementines, I know all about it,
I’m an expert because I see it in my dreams, and in fact three of a seven minute video,
Like jellyfish are so old,
Floating around in cosmic soup,
How are you today?
I am alive, I think I am alive,
Why do you get up in the morning?
Will you tell me all about it, how you spend all your time,
If you cook at home or get takeout,
Do you even eat at all? Something,
Like this, makes us human,
What did you choose to put in your box, if you had a box,
Who will lead the talk on you, who will put the music over your end credits, who will choose the shot that lingers,
Who will write to you my darling on the first pages,
It’s your book,
For my sons, for my lovers, for my dog,
The house will be shady, and older than me,
A mystery of how many people have breathed the same air as I have,
I see the lines that time,
Has a habit of tracing.

I don't really write,
I confess,
I don't know who you are, you don't know who I am,
Like two lonely strangers sharing a breath,
Eyes that stare, and look away,
There was a thoughtless second,
Of being together.

That numbness, the hole in your heart, the veins, that keep you occupied with Beating,

Away the silent feeling, running,
It’s not your body that stops, it’s you,
To feel blindly, be a fool,

Washing your face in these two hands,
The strawberry knuckles,
The longing,
I have decided,

Is freedom truly solitude?
I feel you missing,
Become forgotten, please,
I am a black hole, an absence,
without these inky capillaries.

It is fun talking,
Though I am always loosing,
Winning tastes bitter.

You burst in while I was doing my homework,
So we went down,
Into an empty house,
We were the ghosts,
The green on the walls, newly painted,
Badly painted you said,
You know these things.
Telling me I was drifting away,
Picking open a cornflower with your stubby fingernails,
The blue body parts falling reluctantly,
As we sat cross-legged,
The grass stalks,
Bending towards us,
A green ocean,
And you, pulling it apart,
The sky is grey and uneasy,
Soon it will cry on us,
Its sadness on our shoulders,
And you laughing at me,
"you are my favourite person too" you said.

Your avocado stones, and sunflower seeds,
Your old carpets,
Being too cold, and not trusting the dishes,
Are they clean?
Stained by the noodles your sister keeps eating,
And your dog that I don't like,
The way nothing seems to get to you,
But I know you feel but you won't talk about it,
I talk then,
But I wish you would tell me,
Flower eyes,
Your colour is yellow now,
Scrawls on my picture of your brain,
Or your eye, on my wall,
No one understands it,
Do you?
Do you need me?

It's another kind of nightmare,
It's the feeling of a lifetime,
Open to the limelight,
And now I'm reaching for your lifeline,
Over the bugs inside your eyes,
I hope you won't understand,
Because I dont.

My heart has never beat so fast,
Inside this hollow chest,
I think I might die,
I think I might die.

Alone in an empty cinema,
Only the projection,
Of talking heads,
That live and die perfectly,
Again and again, for the seats, sitting all alone,
When the world is framed like a painting,
You fall in love with its sprawling, open flaws.
Put out to be discovered.

I first met her in a sunflower
feild,
Filled with sunshine and bugs,
In the tall stems,
She lifted up the corners of her mouth,
At everyone,
And me,
I tried to scream at her, and hit her with my soft fists,
But she took them in her hands instead,
And she was running too fast to hear me,
Or even care.

The poet with a rusty brain,
Cold metal submits to colour, and the rain
that falls inside,
The cogs and gears stopped moving,
Held still,
By Burnt Ochre,
And water thoughts - rushing, drowning, singing.

Yesterday when my nerves and brain were fried
By the sun,
And we all yelled at eachother in happiness because it hurts when your alone for such a long time,
We ran all around the burning town,
And later,
The full moon and the smoke from the chimney,
Swallowed us whole

The drawn out holiday,
that made your head so sick it was painful to think
its been like this for a while now,
your own short eternity
So, you wonder when it will stop
and fall
into somthing worse, because it will soon
running upwards or downwards
its only the same