He is watching me,
Through the dust stained window
With his evil pumpkin head
Lit with an eerie candle glow
The axe from the shed,
Glints within the moonlight
This is no nightmare,
No dream,
For the beads of sweat are cold
I fear the tapping at the door
Then suddenly smashed to pieces
He is here now,
In this room
Raising that axe above my head
I close my eyes and tremble
Because I have no time to scream

I sang to the sad man
only to hear my own echo
Reflections pitched in a confused tone,
dancing with silent partners in an empty ballroom.

Circles of sound filled the chamberhall,
nothing heard but the feather that hit the floor
It was me, talking to myself, my whispers imbedded inside my empty head.

I heard the final pin drop.
A lost echo no more.

My body is way beyond bent out of shape
After years and years of abuse
That I might just have time to make my own wake
If I don't soon enough figure out what to do

I've tried this and that, all the fads to be had
The hidden secrets to the fat burn
I've climbed mountain sides, talked with gurus passing by
And still I've yet to learn

I'm setting all the wrong free as skinny keeps eluding me
It's a master on the fly
If only one time it would just find to light
Right around my inner thighs

I'm now thinking my fate is more Shake 'n Bake
Than that of long and lean
Any ideas please feel free to call me
On my direct line down at Krispy Kreme

To be pending is to be drunk or high 90% of the time,
Is to wish you weren't alive in the rest
Is to pray to any god who will listen
And then give in to another form of an addiction when they don't

To be pending is to live a life of sin, give no ***** and let anyone and no one in,
To drink not to get drunk but to die.
To be higher than heaven to be turnt till 11 the next morning when your belly is churning from the demons who wouldn't drown,
turning your belly into a fire pit,
purging you into the flower beds of suburbia

To be pending is to wish you were somewhere when you are nowhere, when you are nothing,
to face constant embarrassment, harassment,
to feel shame with every breath you take,
walking dead girl

To be pending is to wander directionless for a week
or a month
or a year,
living in the eerie grotesque comfort of a home which doesn't really seem like home anymore,
To pace the streets at four in the morning trying to detach memories tied to lampposts like ribbons...

Here is the first places we kissed,
here is where I noticed a heart shaped puddle,
here is where we shared our last spliff, here is when I cried
and here

and here

and here.

There, amongst the northern skies,
Tears driven by ghostly squalls to
Fall on the blackened, bleak rooftops
Of this northern town, forgotten.
Left to a grey Victorian rot
Decaying factory ceilings collapsing on,
Litter strewn floors, newspapers decompose
With triumphs from yester year
Industrial dust stained brickwork
Grimy reminder, of the grim past
Haunted dim gaslight probing the fog
Days, nights only separated by murky light
A ghostly silence, hangs like a grimy fog
Cloaking lost sounds of dull beating on metal,
Boots tramping over cobbled stones,
The sounds of clocking on, clocking off, no more

I saw you in a picture today,

A Family Christmas Card.

Your face looks like mine
you can see it in the eyes
especially when you smile.

He's smiling
Holding you in his arms
like you belong there

She's holding your brother
like she held you
in the few pictures we took

Together.

But there's something
not quite right
with this picture.

You can see it in your eyes,
especially when you smile.

Some things will
never be
Perfect.

When I am gone will these words still remain?
Pure thought without a voice or merriment;
What if my life was all for this refrain?

An angel sifted neurons in my brain,
To seek for aught of which I should repent;
When I am gone will these words still remain?

My demons tunnelled through me like a train,
Cajoling me to do their ill portent;
What if my life was all for this refrain?

My haunted past still lingered like the rain
And soaked me in a wave of malcontent;
When I am gone will these words still remain?

My soul was but a solitary grain,
That bloomed to grow until it's time was spent;
What if my life was all for this refrain?

Beyond my years, when long my bones have lain
Past living years of those who may lament,
When I am gone will these words still remain?
What if my life was all for this refrain?

Wounded boards of cardboard dreams
Smelt in cities and lucid screams

Rusty nail driven in blasted souls
Wake me up and make us crawl

Bound by the ties of constant sorrow
The daylight ends, there is no tomorrow