Look, I know you're angry
I forgot to buy the milk for the
third time this month
and sometimes I
don't do enough, baby, I know.
I'm a curveball, but you're
sick of being blindsided.

We're going to end up breaking up or marrying, you know that?
I don't want to break up.
Then do you want to marry?
I don't want to marry either.
Then what are we doing? What are we-

Sometimes when
You kiss me in a thunderstorm,
like a prayer
like a sunrise
like the feeling of falling before
you're actually falling
like how we used to
I almost forget that we're
different people now.

No baby, it's not just pillowtalk,
I swear.

In this dream, my arms are
stretched like birds
my heart in your hands and
your name in my mouth-
God, will you just listen?
It's fine. Whatever. Go back to your phone.
It was just another
stupid metaphor for us
anyway.

Loving you is a
dead end street
but I don't care about
healthy
anymore.
In our backyard,
vines wrangle a sycamore tree
so tightly, you couldn't
sever one
without
the other.

The morning light shines a lifeline-
escape is what I need.
but tell me if I run away,
How long will I bleed?
I'll give you my best side
tell you my best lies.
Go on and light a cigarette
Set a fire in my head tonight.

Ever thought of calling when
You've had a few?
Spitting out this talk 'cause all I want
is you saying
Come over here and sit next to me
I'll run to you till I
Can’t stand on my own anymore.
Hoping, praying,
Wasting borrowed time-

Capsize,
I'm first in the water,
Too close to the bottom,
With eight seconds
left in overtime-
It’s not love,
but it’s better than
dreaming.

In a sermon, the preacher says:
"The Lord created us in his image,
all who desecrate themselves
too destroy a part of God."

I've murdered pets and
alphabetised people by
sense and style and laughs like
a rack of dresses.
I've kissed girls just because
they said they could never like me
like that
as if their lips were some
sacred maiden's blush and not
a pair of fleshy rims.
As if I couldn't read their
***** little lesbian fantasies
underneath those
angel faces.

Susan from accounting thinks I need
to see a therapist. I think she needs to see
a mirror. We don't really get along, but ****-
maybe if drink enough
these clocks
these blue collars
these billboards with the pearly white teeth
won't look like straightjackets anymore.

I have this thing where
sometimes I'm just so tired
of being a body.
The world's a ******* advertisement,
Everyone with their scripted
good mornings and
chemical feelings
down to the last **** t.

My skin is a cage
and I'll strip it off like
a *****.
Why be happy when you
could be interesting?

Love like a bluejay,
Fists in our stomachs-
The headlights of a car coming
at 80 miles an hour straight at you,
pummeling in a stream of light.
The taste of a cigarette after
it's been on someone else's lips.

Don't you dare tell me you understand.

When I tell her this
my therapist only smiles,
Darling it's only purgatory.

Allen knew. Nietzsche knew. Woolf knew.
In all our hearts-
We've already killed God.

Lovely unpretentious silhouette
all bruised under dusklight.
You've got a laugh like
Honey-gold
spilling into
cracks in the pavement
I could walk you back
to the station.

Don't rush this, fool
Box this ((something)) up in it's
corners.

Keep those
Five centimetres between our fingers.
Inevitable distance.
I'll worship you behind
bulletproof glass.
Not yet, not yet

We love in fractions,
dripping into our hearts until it
spills over.

Those barking boys
that just
keep on digging,
Making holes
where there were
once hearts.

We used to take turns tearing down
each other's defences
like the last Christmas present or
an exit in a building fire
And when there was nothing
useful about our bodies except how
they fit against each other.

There are soldiers that don't deteriorate facing
bombshells and fire-grenades but
birthday parties and Saturday nights by the telly.
We could be two of them

Remember how you got when you
just needed something to
hurt
I was your push-pin doll.
Like how children
gouge the button-eyes and rip
the stuffing out of their teddy bears
(but still fall asleep holding them closer than
their absentee parents)

The truth is once,
I would have worn your bruises like
a necklace.

These days, I offer my heart up
on a platter and you don't even want
to spit on it.

All I can do now is will
my fingers to write poetry,
too cowardly
to even pick up the
phone.