In the bardo*
you are floating
aboard the barge of couldhavebeens
and moments that were unseen
not the world
not a boy or a girl
lost
Lost boys are found toys for Thor’s hands
to play with
Lightening lick of guitar solo
striking health into blushed cheeks
Soon you’ll no longer need to be
painted
The eye patches will be removed
and pirate life won’t mean
Scrounging and wishing for an oasis
you’ll throw a life saver
throw a light saber
Glisten the sparkzap through tables
laden with all that’s been spat
from vitriolic minds

Listen
sore elbows from nudging bad spirits away
Blades of bone
and intention can saw through sadness
to the light beyond
like the sky’s pinholes
Stars aren't the cuttings of children
the dark is just a covering
Poke a finger through
Don't fear if you get stuck
for it is only the backdrop to a stage
hiding the mass of light
only there to protect us from blinding joy
Like sunglasses
So be one with your sadness

I have eaten my paramour
sweet remnants on my fingertips
like failure on tour
None could understand our love
the insatiable ferocity of More
the taste of crunching agony
rocky road, choccie baby,
crumbs haunt my floor

Black dots
merge to static fuzz
what happened to the analogue
barchart of colour
TV talks
shut up you’ve had enough
internal groans
sighs of bones
peach bruises from prodding
and tracks protruding from every scratch
oh elbow angled saviour
save me from this labour
oh blessed *******
pray within and linger
this my body
this my cup
had my fill with
not enough

1,000 quid shoes
well, 500 each
foot
sprayed with decay
your body couldn't take.
They couldn't hold much
the stained satin strained
so red soles and insoles
tainted a shade more abject;
Glut.

Polyamorous vegans
Living in a colony
Away from a world
That shares too much
Meat
And not enough
Food for thought.
Their squat squalid
Their garden flourished.

Dear Miss *,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we do not have space for you at our company.
Yours,
Xxxx xxxxxxxx

Dear Miss *,
We regret to inform you that unfortunately at this time we cannot offer you a place with our company as you are under qualified.
Yours ** xxxxx

Dear Miss *,
Thank you for your application. We regret to inform you that you are over-qualified for the position.
Yours,  xxxxxxx ***

Dear Miss *,
I don’t think so love. This isn’t even a letter, this is my managerial position on you handing me your cv.
Cheers, bahbye now

Dear Miss *,
This isn’t really a letter either, but despite how un-pc this is, we can’t hire you due to your gender.
Thanks anyway, save your paper.

Dear Miss *,
Thank you for your application, unfortunately we had stronger applicants.
Yours, etc.,  aaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Dear Miss *,
Thank you for your application. Unfortunately we are not hiring at the moment even though we had advertised the job you applied for.
Yours, xxxxxxxxx xxxxx

Dear Miss *,
We had left it between you and another applicant, and couldn’t decide so we flipped a coin, and she won. You’re a lovely girl though.
Yours, fffffff ffff fffff

Dear Miss *,
I refer to your claim for Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance at VVVVVV’s CCCCCC local office. Jobseekers Benefit/Assistance claims are subject to periodic review, consequently, I would appreciate if you would attend this office for interview on the 31/17/78 and bring the following :
1. Proof of Identity (i.e. Passport or Driving Licence or Long version of your Birth Certificate)
2.  Proof of Residency (e.g. Letter from landlord/ Rent Book/ Lease/ Mortgage Receipt/ Letter from Parents + Household Bill)
3. Written Proof of recent job applications and replies.
4. Proof of job applications made through FAS
5. FAS courses applied for.
6. A copy of your Curriculum Vitae (CV): unemployed from
7. If your spouse/partner is an adult dependent on your claim, please bring his/her GNIB and Passport/Travel Documents.
Failure to respond to this letter may lead to suspension or disallowance of claim.
Yours sincerely,
* *
Local Officer

When we were seventeen
you plotted and planed your death
"21 year old racer dies on the German Autobahn"
You planned to break the speed limit
with your recklessness
in the fastest Ferrari
or a black BMW, perhaps.
Looking back,
we'll laugh at the thought.
There are no speed limits
on Autobahns.

Throw it down to the stage
let down your guard
place your worship on this altar
the cackles of men and witches preside over all.
Keep these Gods in their cage, or free them
it’s all down to you
but they must be appeased
they bring you to your knees
with string and cymbal
withdrawn or symbol
watch them hard
as their eyes roll back in their skulls
the keepers of music; they hold the halter
or release it  for you.

Broke the straw across her back,
so she snapped, never turning back
Bruised her arm by joking accident
with all the malice of death’s intent.

No natural love or paternal instinct
to catch
the tears she’s choked
with your hands on her throat.

Touch her again and the demons will get you
tell her to end herself before you do;
and the death you deserve will befall you
slow, alone and barren.

Better to have left long ago or
confronted your own lineage-issued father and
let yourself be disowned
than be the ******* you are.

Leave her be
middle child,  
second accident
of the disappointing gender.

How dare you lay a finger on an innocent child?
You’ll never be absolved in anyone’s eyes.

Raised by fools, you’ve ruined your gift.
The daughter you never wanted
may never say it,
but will grow up to spite you.

Suffer like she does.

She’s been soaking it up now
for a while
but the blood flow continues
from deep wells of wounds.

She can’t take this load anymore
the people she carries
don’t love her and she’s
parched but still going.

Surviving on a lump in her throat
as she’s dragged through sandstorms and beatings.

I collapsed back and marked the ugly beige paint once.
The word ‘accident’ formed thereafter and the
desire to keep going was like a hunger.

Day one hundred in a flurry of lost days.
No sun anymore
My only vitamins came from bottles and boxes and lips
The temptation to scrawl on the wall grew.

I want our hall in our future home
covered with words so when someone leaves
at a loss for what to say
there will be plenty of choice.

Domestic violence is far more glamorous than contact dermatitis.
Feel disgusting. Fall face down in bleach, it’s the only way to go.
You only write a mere two lines then leave.