Your temper breaks the silence of the air
Ear shattering sounds emit violently toward me
One step, two steps closer ..not another step, please
I become deaf to the time

Rolled up fists, cocked and ready
Eyes bulging red with disdain
I hear the hissing sound of the steam kettle
I become crossed by the pressure inside

Lives are threatened by the pain you toss
Nothing to resort to but angry seams
I am being pushed to the brink by you
I become numb to the edge

I have counted the half seconds to fear itself
They mean nothing to me anymore
I am scared to face the reality of it all
I became the target of your aggression

Easy to dress and hard to address.

All that's left is lonely markers
silent words hardly ever read
where no one talks to their neighbours
centuries old stones at crazy angles
mourners heads bowed and hushed
wraiths moving in the mist
treading carefully amongst dead flowers
where even the poets rest their bones
- to sleep the longest sleep,,,,,

Burial? all the gasses will bloat your purpled body and you will **** and burp and moan and groan even when underground
while all the chemical changes slowly devour your innards
and you spill out the wooden coffin,( even with its ten year guarantee),
going back to a time you could never imagine
a mineralised gloup soaking back into the Earth
and slowly, ever so slowly, you will be washed back to the sea.

old poets
never die
nor do they
fade away
they live
on and on
every time
you turn
the page

your mouth is a door,
and someday you are going to be told that it's just better left closed.

your eyes are the windows to your soul,
and someday people are going to tell you to draw the curtains.

your heart has been unpacked from the basement,
and someday someone is going to tell you to put it away.

and your optimism is a candle in your windows, and someday everyone's going to try and blow it out.

i'm telling you this,
because when that someday comes i want you to know what to say.

you say,

"my mouth is a door, and i hold the key."
"my eyes are the windows to my soul and i'll wash them regularly."
"my heart will not be put away, it goes with everything."
"my optimism is a candle, and it keeps me warm."

when that someday comes,
i want you to know what to say...

you say,
"this is my house, and it's not for sale."