I am distant

I am
the cold wind
howling through
Bare trees

I am
a single
snowflake
falling
to the pavement
melting on impact

I am
the spitting
before the rain

I am nothing
except a warning
before the big storm

It is nothing
Because
I feel nothing
I mean nothing
To this lonely world

but I will miss
writing
in the afterlife.

it was the only way
I could slice open my veins
and bleed out my words
without making a mess.

So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.

The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.  

The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night.  Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.

O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.

There are times, when you want to cut-off from the world.
And there are times, when no one's around you to hold.

There are times, when you've a lot to say but words fall short.
And there are times, when you've nothing at all but you still have to talk.

There are times, when you're strong enough but too scared to fight.
And there are times, when you're weak but you do what's right.

There are times, when you feel like crying but tears don't fall off your eyes,
And there are times, when you're happy but can't laugh as a friend next to you cries.

There are times, when you don't want to reveal the secrets buried in your heart,
And there are times, when you want to share but nobody's close enough to be a part.

All I want to say is, I could have lived through all those times,
If you had just said, "I'm with you sweetheart, so everything's gonna be fine".

Relics of you
(Old sweaters and letters)
Line the walls of my hiding place
(I may have dug myself in too deep this time)

This is the cardiac line.
Your first stop is the
left atrium.
Passengers alight here for warmth and passion.
Please have your tickets ready worn on your sleeve.
We apologise for any delays. This was due to mixed signals.
You are in coach one of four.
Mind the gap between the heart and common sense.

when you feel as
useless
as a white crayon

all you have
to do
is to find
that someone

who prefers
black paper

your smile sunk its teeth into my brain
and I can’t get them out
I think about you in that way all the time,
as hard, little pieces of the bigger picture,
embedded in different parts of my memory
that appear when they please

I feel your arms around me before sleep hits me
I see your smile when you tell me good news
I hear your aching heart beating when you’re upset

these are the things embedded in my brain like teeth
the smile you buried in my memories

I’m ******* terrified

every piece of you I find in my life is just a small remnant of you
but every piece of you embedded in my skin, my hair, my personality
leaves a hole when you take it away

you’re quickly replacing my framework,
filling my bones with your mannerisms and laughter and niceties
and breathing life into me so that just that smile can warm every inch of me

but what happens when you’re gone?
what happens when your laughter leaves and bitterness breaks in and rips holes in the whole person you made me?
when sorrow pours into the gaps, do I suddenly sink and drown under its weight?
does it attack what’s left of me?
do I crumble until I am two inches tall, the person I was before you built me up?

there are pieces of you embedded in my memories that will leave holes when they’re gone
I try not to think of all the ways I will try and fail to replace them
even stitches leave scars

I am ******* terrified

(This poem was brought to you by the letter...V!)
She vacuums the worn carpet
Her gaze on the surface vague and vacant
But when you lift the lid
She has been ****** into a vortex
Of whirling cosmic space dust.


She's entered a parallel universe
There her name is Vanessa
And her life's so diverse
By day she announces on
underground trains
  'mind the gap, next stop
Mornington crescent'
Her voice is sweet, virtuous,
clear and efficient
  But by evening her voice has
  more va va voom
She sings sultry jazz
in a smoky back room.
She looks almost the same
Voluptuous lines and a
red haired mane
But gone is any trace of mundane.  

Each verse of song she wraps in a sway of the hips side to side
and a ravishing smile
 And if the audience  try it on
or  become volatile
A valiant handsome trilby wearing
gentleman
Can warn them off  
With a choice few nouns
And vexing verbs
make them run a mile

And after the show
She and the gentleman
Vanish from view
And as their heated passion grows
 They sink down onto A velveteen couch
 exploring her peaks n valleys
With his keen mouth
And she traces his muscles
Vivid veins, v lines
She reaches his peak further south.



Back out of the vortex
And back in the room
She is breathless
And her heart is fast and keen
She has stopped the vacuum
Instead saught solace
In the vibrations of her washing machine