i still remember the nights
spent tracing her lips, looking
for meaning in their cracks.

(shrunken spines, curling
lips and cosmic eyes.)

she'd kiss away my fears,
paint them black and blue,
distorting memories until
they became meaningless
lies dripping so easily off
her tongue that i'd soon begin
to mistake them for truths

(shrunken spines, curling
lips and cosmic eyes.)

Untouchable, she was the
kind of beauty to keep you
transfixed, swirling skies,
killing time, the crescendo
building up in your head
until everything just
suddenly
               goes
                       blank.

she was shrunken spines,
curling lips and cosmic eyes

i loved her, i hated her,
i still wish i could see her
without the memories
lying breathless,
clouding my gaze.

I stay up for the moons
Quiet gaze
The light by the bedside
Carves shadows of you
Into my bare frame
The air itself is naked
Vulnerable of all scent.
I kissed you thrice,
One on the lips
For devotion,
One on the ribs of
Your teeth,
On the elbow of your
Favourite book.
As all writers do.
I created that arched frame
That pulled your
Tendons tight
To my inked sheets,
Shot you into blind space,
While I teethed on
The bow of your
Fingertips
Our skin tarmac,
There was roadworks
Of our bed.
Toes dancing morbidly
Between bursting stars
While night gulls
And ravens watched
Through the window
Waiting to peck
At the mangled carcass
Of our hearts.

Under his gaze
my soul is naked.
Waves of electricity
shaking my skin
and I can not breathe.
His piercing eyes
holding my deepest secrets
and I am left with a vulnerability
that I'am not ready for the world to see.
No,I can not breathe
his dark eyes are everywhere I dare to see.

i like angry poetry
the kind that churns
in your gut,
with razors for teeth
and gums bleeding.
i like the violent sound
of verbs clashing
on a decaying page,
like the shot of a gun
on a quiet day.
i like the poetry that stays,
that lies in waiting
like a dog in a cage,
words that creep like
voided birds into the
wired tress of my brain,
that pay their rent
like drunken travelers
and trash the place.
i like angry poetry
the kind that sears it's
screams to my lips,
which spirit echoes and
moans for eager,
****** eyes.
words that hit like *****,
giving their reader
a killer hangover.
i like angry poetry,
the kind that leave you
with a smoky exit.

Faces only remind you of
How lonely you are,
You say you've swam too far
Into the sea of your regrets
That I am your lifeboat
But didn't you hear
I sank long, long ago?

You've been searching
For a new home,
One that doesn't creak
Or shudder at night.
But homes are not people
And your voice cracks
As you point out
There's a welcome mat
By the front door
But I never answer
When you knock.

It's been a while since
I started attracting
Strangers with flashlights
To search me like
A haunted place.
I finally realized they
Were the ones that
Needed scaring away.

It's so odd to think,
You once told me
You saw beauty
In clifftops,
And I thought you
Were talking about
The view.

When I write these things
my thoughts fly with birds
sometimes grey in storms
sometimes winged in skies
so feathery

When I sing this song
my heart goes in beats, bittersweet
sometimes heavy held, my sorrow spilled
sometimes warmed, red flushed
and fluttery

When I paint this canvas
my brush moves in labyrinthine moods
sometimes shades, darkest blue cerulean
sometimes flowers white, soft as clouds
upon the page, floating heavenly

Sledgehammer
Glass heart
Should've known
From the start

That by the time
We would collide
I'd be left broken
on the inside

there are so many words i could write you
but my mouth is locked again
my heart can't read anymore
wish i could tell you how i'd rebuild
the aurelian walls around you,
the king,
but i know my hands are useless now
and my mind has been washed away
by the same sea
you were trying to teach me
how to swim in.

and the beggars on the streets
they ask me for pennies
"from your kindness"
they say
but my cold eyes can't have it anymore.

my decisions are dark
i make mistakes
when i decide to whom i should give my soul,
when i decide what i should ****
when i forget everything i've learnt.

the music i used to love
the metaphors
they don't make sense to me anymore
not because i don't hear them
but because today
i've chosen to see and hear the reality.

sad-eyed lady i will be for some more
but i'll set you free from seeing the sadness
the pain
i wish i could love you
the way seagulls love to rest on the sand
the way children love their paper planes
i wish i could be
the angel you see
but i know
i am just a human being
stepping on souls.