heart pains of empty
it's as though it's thinning out.
everything that she does to her body
deprives her of nourish.
her heart unravels to bones
we call it *****
no meat no skin, no warmth.
maybe feed on love, or emotion
a substance so foreign
not consumed yet in form.
food poisoning.

the ***** must continue to trace until its flesh spills through those desperate bones which engrave through her chest
for the attention to then be brought.

love loses
and slowly, sparsely
it’s fading away from me how it feels to
be shot?
to be burrowed into the night’s portal of regret and despair and urge to escape.
and to write even,
and to see life pass by with a name intertwining each of its pieces.

in whole all I can say is maybe it isn’t so extreme but
when the heart aches it is drowned down below you and drips out salt from your eyes until the cries can’t go unnoticed ;
it’s challenging to sleep.

on the other hand for now my sleep is whole and I dream often

Take off your shoes
because she didn’t want
any traces of the dirt
leftover from the days you spent without her.
Drops, from the water
that night that you had drowned
in the lights of the ocean
with other souls.

take off your jacket because
her perfume is still stained
on the collar.

I take I’m saving these tears for when you strike me full
and it’s you at the other line of the song once the words thread through.

When I’m on my knees, left scrubbing you off of me. Washing you out with rivers of piano chords and trembling voices - that haunt me of you
which smear the floor black.

Your mess overturned as you slip out.
I cry for the love I cried to show you.

I had left myself open for you, my doors were slammed shut in weakness by your hands withering to push it back.

she breathed in her nightmares,

exhaled them onto paper.

so she’ll revisit what messed her

watch me scatter the solemn ashes of my youth on these trails
A mind so mindless; so enriched with allure pink skies and withering dreams.
One so naive so bluntly ignorant to the cruelty that buries itself under the trails of a rooted fate.
watch me wander watch me waste time

Mental health; mental wealth.
It’s riches you spend on your armour when in battles with demons,
to come out the other end bruised but not defeated.

The weath in within the gold mines in your head that the demons dig upon,
though still you find golden flakes on the surface of your palms.

That you spend your wealth on others, to save them from the debt you fear to suffer again. As you rust.

Wealth is the riches you still hold, when the demons strip you bankrupt.

you are rich, for you are still here.

tied by a rock her heart sunk to the bottom of the seabed.
it decayed for a time and it whithered amongst reflections what lingered in the waters.
one morning she cut loose
but no longer could float.

i float on a frozen surface,
as my heart bathes
in a stench
of streaming lonesomeness.

before you contemplate that sharpened knife,
that is not ****** to other skin
- and sensually slit me open
from the neck.
my last tears that dilute with red will
vainly stain your pail shirt.

let me diffuse through your cold skin
so the knife that hovers above me
won't erase my trace.

staring at this mirror
I feel you approach at my shadow
trailing the knife.

my time cut short.
to save my guts from splitting,
I purge out all your substance that I had consumed.
with it, out came the bottled voice you raided me for
every night when you were dry with thirst.

eyes whisper to mine
that this wasn't your intent.
but I disagreed when red ran down my spine

If only I was there
to sneak in during the AM of closed windows.
and kiss the glass floors with gasoline
and glaze it with honey
and then perhaps drop my match alight.

To see your world dissolve
feel you burn, -as I did
and watch you turn to ashes at my feet. -Like you didn’t.
So I can kneel at the end
to blow your dust from my skin.


. rather than lugging round
a crisp coated burnt out heart.  - That you made
that now fears
to play with fire.

It’s the thought of your cigarette smoke.
Which cracks through the gaps in your teeth,
and into the hollows of your lips -
becoming so coarse because they are soft.

Clouds of your grey
pollute my eyes.
And you hide behind it until
it has threaded through my every pore
and into my tongue as I swallow into my gut.
I savour as if it was you that I inhaled.

I drown in that somber ocean
of your lighter in the side pocket of your trench,
and the packet which you dig from out your jeans.

As you breath
smoke flows into my ear - pollutes them
With late nights you spend alone.
A half dry pen on tea stained paperd notebooks
that are buried under paperclips and mangled headphones.
The sound as you force, pelting creased paper into the fire.
and tears which drip out onto your sweater.
and echoes of dying guitar strings
that can no longer bare the abuse you show them these nights
when the words and notes won’t kiss.like you want them to.

As it drips down through my gut
I taste the rasp smell of your cologne in the morning
after the rain wastes it off in the morning.
Along with the taste of salt that you drench every word in.

The smoke evaporates from my view.
I stare at your bones glowing under an orange street light..
Your eyes hollow,
eaten up by the shadows and I wonder
if you are in front of me.

Or if I only recognised the familiar grey clouds
- that once hid my blue sky.

your eyes blank with the dimming grey
of the cigarette that you dreamt you held now.
even if it blacks and barricades
your last air - in your last lungs.
Because it’s saving you from your
void into reality.

now the smell of pain’s smoke,
gnaws into the walls of the room you lurk in
from the insides.

spreading to suffocate the ones who
bullet this hatred into your restless head,
under your river of limp hair.

and finally it blanks your glass window so all you see
is your black hole of distort.

He was beastly restless I wanted to disperse from the room, throw myself over the ledge which gaped onto soulless streetlights.
The LED would have made my black hairs so iridescent if you let my lie down there dead, parched neatly over the drains.

Then you slapped me and I was on the floor in between your legs, my hair wrapped around your right hand and treading over your knee. I was ornate in red lipstick, I was your doll, you were my player. I was the robot I was the programmed one I was a cell paralysed in a body. He sculpted his arms around my torso, his fingers melted into the curve of my jawline. As if to kiss me, yet the cigarette **** disintegrated into my left cheek leaving him permanently there. Pain or pleasure I forgot; I was so immune to his presence forever lingering on my skin in scars.

Baby,
the moon is in retrograde
with you tonight.

because you have my head spinning and

I just looked out
to find the stars have spilled out into your name.

Romeo threw stones at your window
Tomorrow he will throw bombs and ****** you beautifully
The bombs explode with a fragrant odour so you fade gracefully in the smoke
He knows you’re alone in that home that once safe haven he alights in beams
You are trapped as the smoke crawls through the gaps as he once did under the sheets
The fire burns quietly at first as if it was simply his cigarette that he was lighting
Alas then it screeches and it reflects his screams he attacked you with once his bottle was empty and you said the wrong thing
Everything about this fire resembles him within the flames
Everything within this death resurrects his presence

Everything you doubted he was he is and he shows
Behold and brace the pain , this anonymous pain.
And it hits you at once, the flame licks your nightgown
coinciding with the first wake of dawn, the sun dwells behind the curtains and lets itself through the inch you left to separate the light from the blinds.

tonight when I fled from my cage,
I was secluded from my own head because
all it called upon was you. echoing and echoing.

like a mother aches for her lost child
I was
gnawing the skin on my fingertips
rustling the ends of my hair into knots
biting numbingly into my tongue
all so nonchalantly
like a fool.

who is so simply chasing his own tail
in circles and circles and circles and just such endless cycles

until they send themselves to sleep

I wrench my own feeble nails
down the wall, insistently.

and I'm sickly tortured by
all the screeching
but something else should feel the distress.

- these hands need punishing.
because forever it dwells in my palms
but they've never let me hold secure;
never let me cradle it to warmth.

- I guess just because I feel that this will
just all melt away by the time I blink.
And because my hands simply don't ever deserve to bathe in your being.

love she supports her souls with will not be sufficient I think someone must tell her truth that she is suffering alone and quiet. I think it’s time someone turned the lights off in the daylight and left her put in the dim dark of the orange street lights transparent through the window when the street lies asleep and she releases her songs to the paper and her heart can rest and she can erase stupidity hilarity from her show and perhaps stay silenced for a while until she can speak what the street lights hear when the neighbours sleep.

when this happens it seems eveyone became deaf

we pursue to confess sins that
have not been sinned.
rather than repent to ourselves
to bathe and soak in guilt that lurks amongst blood.
It’s okay if it keeps you awake
but sins is nothing but a disguise we put on ourselves
when we feel
that we have wronged the world.
We never do.

we pursue to confess sins that
have not been sinned.
rather than repent to ourselves
to bathe and soak in guilt that lurks amongst blood.
It’s okay if it keeps you awake
but sins is nothing but a disguise we put on ourselves
when we feel
that we have wronged the world.
We never do.

I’ve come back to this a soldier,
the blood you extracted from my body
now smeared stripes on my cheekbones.

But buckle in.
Do I really need?
         -yes

A bullet proof vest inches thick. Barricades my bones
and sewn into the bones of my torso with hope.
            but that’s only for in case you shoot me, again,
              in the left chest.

- then that’s only if you become the target. if you whisper your vulnerability into his eyes, again. and stand hopeless before it all.

No I cannot bare it one more time.

He never seen me hospitalised in the bed of a room so empty. ( a mind so empty, numb)
So abandoned the nurses had left.
So abandoned I was the nurse the doctor the therapist the healer.
Doctor barely retrieved blood
Nurse barely rose me back to my feet
Therapist didn’t give forget.   wouldn’t let me forget - what about it I loved because he had never found it in me.
Then I am reminded again.

- so soldier buckle up the bare skin that can so easily be burned. buckle up in black.

I wear it in fear hesitation ilness and resentment to a repeat.

- better off safe than sorry

But safe now becomes a sorry to the soul for restraining.

  - sorry

still I find to feel
my arms swing
my hands clamber over
as my fingertips hastily wrap round the letters of his name.
which ink refuses to write

until it forgets his face, though sees how my eyes shot rays
of iridescent blue
and feels how my stomach would indulge to engulf my heart
until it was shredded and pure.
erased and framed back into its place when it gave up.

those letters bleed through the paper and I toss it into fire
they age and crumble
ashes settle but blow.

and I find them on my palms,
which reminds me...

stop watering it,
these roots are getting flooded and they have no life to withstand.

please don’t let any more words
drop out your sweet tongue,
my insides are expanding in agony.

this seed you planted,
I built a fence to protect it from your  rain
and harm,
so it  may slowly die.

yet life has broken into it,
and the wind was screaming last night.
I didn’t realise until now.

until I came to find your walls were shattered,
and to my realisation my fence was melted.

that’s when the pain has began
brewing, foaming.
leaking into each vein and intertwines around their blue tunnels.
I am sick at the thought.

these roots stream into my nerves,
closing my sleep, my words
as I only inhale yours through my pipe.
then engulfing this seed
that seems to shoot further up me,
when you are furtherst away.

leave it like this
sign a name then scribble it from existing;
Blood was shed and blindness almost enshrouded in the making,
the blank ink reminds me of the feeling
familiar
With this pen and I swam in lyrics that I tried to climb into, they never seemed to fit - lose weight. ok,
and sweet dreams I injected like heroine into my head; yes they had done the worst to me but alas, that’s addiction:
one never fears the desire because the greed is fuelled in return with the buzz (hope,worth,purpose?something/one).
Gambling; waste my wealths (worth,time) upon it to only taste failure before me each time, but always return slowly because “a time will come” - to win; I haven’t.

slap reality across your right cheek that  burns red in naivety.

"the dangerous capacity of fiction to appeal to such an extent that it engenders a sense of dissatisfaction with real life"

people around us fade
long days wade.
And the clouds stay golden tipped
but they look upon a withering world with suffering lives and pained hearts
living in a burning nature
a shallow fog polluted the air and
arrogance engulfs the helpless so deep that they are forgotten.
We dissolve slowly

I’m resting my head on the surface of your knees. my face only skims
and my fingers are curled in the coarse denim of your jeans.
my palms sweat effortlessly.
look my prize is in my hands,
but my efforts you foresee.

I’m enshrined but your eyes glaze views ahead, no blinks
blind to the tug on your skin. Numb, you are
so am I.

The shirt pasted to your chest, you nudge. Uncomfortable.
see I’m so helplessly sewn into the frail hem of your pockets
and I’m senseless here I can’t dance.

Then I’m woven into the smoke infused cotton, and it’s so sweet.
it sours the salt dripping from my tears.

you balance with your knuckles and emerge from your seat to stand.
and I find that I melt into the carpet as you trail me behind so violent
I rot down into the lips of the floorboards.
not yours.

I seen it crawling up my shoulder
as I realised it consuming my shadows.
Thickening and emerging upon my gaze
- as it settles softly into the creases of my shirt
and I imprinted with your selfish.

Since that bomb left your palms,
its flooding the steps upon me.
your gas stained my skin lifeless and pierced me numb.
leaving wounds that won’t close
because they don’t know how you did it.
So much so, that they cry
tears of red and regret for ever nearing close to you again.

Whilst I thought
that you only threw on battlefields,
these deluded bodies around me -
awoke my realisation.

As I inhale the same thin poison
on their skin.
which I feel is dying me.

I think march has returned though it snows outside I can hear you outside and I’m slurring forgetting my senses and ignorant to the truth you posses; pretending it could be but would never be because this
is me forever.
unrequitedunrequitedunrequited; get it tattoed on me it will make no alteration because I can face it everyday needlessly.unrequited you are silenced from the rest. In the movie you are the fool  and unrequited you are unvisible/invisibe.no one cares to correct you for spelling because everyone forgets to read or write. As have you so what has drawn you back here; to march?
maybe she missed her letdown glazing her tear fire maybe she missed how the pen and the dark proved a healer and wanted to feel saved again from a nightmare.

I like him like this. He is a beast towering over the feeble souls, knowing we are in his power.
I lose sense of myself and act within his fantasy,
reborn each night.

There are too many hours in his night, he rejects the clock, tears out the handles, discards the rest to the fire. It consumes a false reality in its blaze and the dark lasts for years. We never age but we have lay here for so long. Mentally, I have become more youth, he extracts any knowledge I had in my ****** life, any experience, all my opinion. Violently he injects me with a stream of his blood to drown it out of me. I bathe in a red glaze which treacles orgasmically down my flesh. I am his clone, part of him always pervades within me. Nothing is real, I live in his video game.

you can’t just
play me out until I’m dizzy
and lying on the ground like a lost infant.
you can’t make my words
at once crash off the shelves,
my tongue will drop down my pipe.

perhaps I’ll close my eyes
once open, I am masked.
masked until I am as thick as my skin
punching through the layers inside
as my soul pushes them back.
so that they are well hidden from your luring voice,
like these marks stained on this paper.

I listen to them as they mouth your name;
and I see
how deluded,
how hypnotic,
how enchanted and consumed
they talk of your ways and,
how the stars in their pupils beam with a radiance of such pure awe.
Your words hang loose off the tops of their tounges and their lips drool in your glaze.
Your lazy features,  your so electric but so infuriating charm -
sends them mindless, locks them in your illusion.


So it’s then

I try to burn every
sheet of paper which ink prints your presence,
inside these desperate  shelves which fold upon each heartstring.

My ears attempt to block it out.
Instead they replay every song
that has ever left your lips.
And my eyes deceive me as they scatter
a particle of you on every surface of life I encounter.

My mind echoes every laugh you created in my streams.

Then I paint every colour you ever erupted within me,
in thick black.

As they mouth your name,
every trace of you with anyone but me,
causes my hands to pull through my gut,
and hammer down any of these ******* deceptive daydreams
that you have me  trapped me in.

And then so easily, one by one,
debris of my heart crumble like rain
down your window,
down each vein.

The light catches his hair in the most perfect way and It’s a movie
The blond tips look like wings under streetlights
I flee from that perfection because I sense illusion
I sense danger I sense blood.
I flee with a gun in my right and scarf in my left
The AM is always so cold the breeze may **** me .
Town clock strikes 05 and it’s time for the night to disperse
I thought I was alone but I smell your footprints and I s was your shadow to my right
A black ink pen I grab from my pocket and scribe onto my hand what sight surrounds me, a commemoration or our last hours spent under streetlights I try to write yet the ink smudges simultaneously. A sign to warm me that I won’t want to remeber this night.
Alas i was correct, he was an illusion. My warning sought truth.
Blood dribbles out my head out my mouth
I drool needlessly hopelessly at his smug silhouette above me.

They parted
She left because he always looked down.
He left because she always looked up.

Of course she always looked up,
meaning she would pass strangers faces
and follow life through it’s guide.
It was only she who tasted the stars and the sun and the moon.
She could look at who spoke when she chose to listen,
and looked at smiles and floated through souls.
And read herself to esacpes,
understood brush strokes which formed the art that whispered to her through the rhythmAnd was bitten with dreams
and was thirsty to drown in every ocean she could.

Yet he still never looked up.
He never seen her fully
nor did he discover what was above, infront of her.

She left because she knew
when she looked up,
She was still tied down to his roots.
So she caressed a knife, cutting herself free.

When she looked above now,
her eyes were open brighter and her soul blushed at the winds.
Roots at her feet grew and planted themselves wherever she pleased.

As she left he was blind,
For it was the first time he ever looked up at the stars.

But it was the last time he would ever look up
To see her leave.

for so long you
lead me by the hand
convincing me that I'm almost there.
that the sleepless nights you diagnosed me with,
would heal.

if you had only told me those visiting demons,
were once yours.
so I didn't have to waste my night ******* time concealing
and disguising your distressed nightmares.
since then they've been amongst the dust
which I swallow in my sleep.
then in the morning awake, with the taste of you
gritted in my teeth.

I think I know exactly
just how you’ll kiss me.
I can already taste the aftertaste of your lingering regret.
See they’ll touch
and you’ll gulp as you swallow
my every last morsel of skin.
       At this time each nerve alerts the senses to stop.
they know I’ll soon be left to burn out.
They don’t think you like the taste of me
because as I float down each of your pipes
I only sink deeper into your sorrows.
As if I’m a safety ring that you’ve swallowed to stop yourself from diving any deeper. Into your own
sickening blackness
        And I understand now
because you are so desperately trying to
regurgitate your last actions.
Only so that you can spit,
Spit my soul back onto the ground.
When you smell her perfume.
                That’s when you allow your footprints to walk
and stain
this white dress that blanks the inside of me.
And that’s when I stand to my own balance,
to trudge so many steps away from you.

The knife I stroke in my hand
I wish I could lash open
so violent and so cynical,
so carelessly
each vein in my body.

Until each drip of thought of you
runs out my skin in deep red.
Staining every white sheet of naiveness
that I would shield myself in every dark,
since you invaded me

When I call on help,
they are blunt. I am left on hold,
as my room floods with thick red.
Because they say that they are in urgent rush
to stitch up your scars,
and neglecting the ones that you spread onto me

We would dance until the ground was no longer at our soles,
when we would float in a trance of sheer naive
in the palms of death’s hand. slightly teasing.

Grasping vestal youth in our hands with
cigarettes in our fingertips.

Empty glistening bottles, left smashed on begging turf
whilst the substances slur inside minds.
Fallen drunken on the night’s moonlit whispers,
delusional romances, and unpromising fantasies.

The gasoline drooled out his hand needlessly.
It glazed the grass guilty
when we kissed it’s tips with a lighter.

its then those fantasies engulfed the air in illuminations of blaze
then creeping thick grey
and ceased to ash.

Death gently blew the ashes to the river
and kissed us goodnight.

- though now we are still dancing in our circle.
we light  it all on fire again
to disintegrate new dreams
quivering romances

Its when it gets to the point when you
can physically place your hands on me
And just zip down the seams
that have caved in fears and neglect
from them all.

Unleashing this wind of fire,
that streams out my chest and
burns you to the core - crisp,
with relief and thanks.                    
For escaping me, and pulling my souls out
from turmoil ashes.