desertification on the town
glimpses on bloated horizon
a blast of sand with ringing ears
the sweeping hollowed battle cry

aimlessness
pulls me back into despair

it's time to step out the cage
for i conjured up the golden bars
it's time to leave it all behind
and flush away my scars

the rain had come and belted a song
and still the melody plays
but if i cannot learn to love the music
how will i find my way?

a part of living is turmoil
and rocks you cannot surpass
rather than giving up
i will stay and smell the grass

for some things are unavoidable
and take a while to play out
it's better to wait and laugh
where before i would scream and shout

so this is it in all it's glory
life is a tumbling mess
but how long does it take to realise
that in having life we're blessed?

where have you gone?
i am bleeding out
all these secret histories
being nailed to a **** cross
and i try to be brave, i do;
wanting to spit in their little grimy faces
and growl and scream and writhe
but i can't show any of it.
my spine is fluid and curling
like a drooping dried flower
pumulled by a blazing star.
i just wanna hold your hand
and look in you eyes and know i'll find my way
cause everything is closing in
and where i once saw a city sweeping before me
i now only glimpse a tunnelled spot.
so come,
get over your pride
and hold my **** hand.

beautiful whispers in my ears
easing all of my darkest fears
i kiss you then and hold you tight
and waiting for the coming of night

i light the cigarette and watch the smoke
and pocket my nails, jagged and broke
the tempest is nigh, winds are blowing
we zip up our coats, knowing:

it will be rough, it will be a test
everything dear will be lost lest
we stand tall and shout aloud
we are proud and will not be cowed

for we are stoic in the face of death
and with a full chorus of hitched breath
i pirouette and twirl and laugh and sing
nothing will subdue this couple of kings!

he was like gold:
pretty but malleable

colours are changing
dying branches grab at air
as they become bare

i think of
the tops of trees
in the places where humans do not roam

at least then
my mind will be clear
and untarnished from fear or self-righteousness

words are currencies
i'm richer than a banker
typing at twilight

what a sad slip of a boy
who wears grey jumpers and hats
sitting in the dark of his bedroom
writing stories of the past

a haze clouds his eyes
for the future he cannot see
grief-stricken and dissociated
he does not realise all he could be

the solitude comforts him
as he's pumulled by history, the sundrenched kisses
wearily typing
imaging all of his tragical wishes

it's been a long road
how much further is there left
i'm already tired

i want to be a boy
i don't like this age
give me adventures
and make me brave

grown-ups are ordinary
and think in a line
no magic left in them
nothing more to mine