A shock of that medieval gait
Iron clad and shut tight behind
our failed visit to this church or that.
Wandering slyly
Sphinx-like in our mysterious gaze
across the Douro
Avoiding eyes but
touching hands
'Because...
Well...Vacation'
he says
slipping his hands down my spine
I say, 'that's fine'
Because...
Well...Temporarity.
But it's not-
Tid in the stomachways.
It churns at the sight of you,
Not in the good way too,
It swivels and slights
always threatening, threatening, threatening
to give up on lunch.

But I guess,
that's all to rest,
because four more days
And you're a stranger again.
Not this succubus sprite
trying to bask in my light,
Not some peeved preacher's son
desperately adopting what I've done,
And not some Disneyland duo,
or too sweetly caricaturised lovers,
But a boy;
and a girl,
Too hurt by this world to admit that
sometimes, it's not where you go
but who you're with
that can ruin the trip.

When all my time has passed
And my memories are filmed with dust
I'll recall my travels, as if friends,
from distant lands
to newfound ends.

I crushed the needles of a pine
beneath my feet,
Rupturing like a thousand baby beetles
singing 'crunch, crunch, crunch'

I felt the power of my step
the destruction inherent in it,
And the revelations
that come only afterwards.

And when I stop to wonder
at the distant emotions I call to,
(frequently dead and scripted)
I hear nothing but passing vowels,
and the 'crunch-crunch-crunching'
of the wheels of time
in my mind.

I live in sepia tones:
drained browns and tans;
too bleak, and too old, and too, alone
like Wendy in new lands.

Love, inject in me your
bright spectrum
release my soul,
and subtract my sum.

My surplus lust
has made me lame.
I've lost my mind,
forgot my name.

But this is where the magic happens!
With fairy dust and misguided boys!
Where I sacrifice control.
and adhere to your ploys.

Brace yourself!
The taxes have come
stomping through
your house
your car
your mouth
your heart.

The porcelain in your mother's urn
the dust collecting on your sill
the money you give away in your will,
The facts you meant to learn.

You're ****** dry
a bag of bones on the floor
picked apart by the dogs
                                       cats
                                       birds
                                       rats
                                    that you paid to keep.

Deviant Disaster where art thou?
In the toes of corpses
shriveled and blue?
In the blood of blackberries
staining my shoe?

I find the cool clamp of destruction
under my bed
in my hair
on my eyelash
everywhere
everywhere
lurking for that one strike of a match
one puff of grey smoke
one fallen blackberry
one wretched, writing girl.

For you
to speak the truth
is to spit fire.
Close your mouth
Close your mouth.

Build the words inside
they bubble,
and blister.
Don't cry out
Don't cry out

They turn your gums to ash
a grey ****** mess
behind your polished teeth,
but a safe secret
beneath your scarred tongue
beneath your scarred tongue.