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Single years roll down my face,
I send smoke signals to teenagers
Lost in the sound of their personal midnight,
Changing their names to ‘lost’ and ‘gained’
and remain unquantifiable
in the loose streets of halogen New York,
or the loose streets of halogen anywhere,

Some places you don’t imagine, only experience,
Some places you don’t  visit but get sent,
Some places demand sacrifice of years you don’t have,
Some places are just prayers and graffiti,

And here, here
The railway bridge adorned,
with tags and padlocks
and ****** fluids with different stories,
I see all the streets and city embodied,
She has a face like blunt force trauma,
Her legs are seductive and her hands
are covered in blood,
Her lover’s smile is an open wound.

In these places there is a fire in every tower,
In these places there is something sharp in every pocket,
In these places there is a sad drawing in your child’s notebook,
In these places there is always a ticking growing louder.

A foetus in handcuffs beneath a middle aged man
hanging from a traffic light;
Incidents unrelated,
Become dead words in piles of boxes,
That don’t realise they tell us how
this city or satellite town
is gathering the dirt for its own burial mound.
Some days we are but noise
beneath a silent sky,
Waiting and wanting to be heard,
The creek of an old machine still proving it's worth,
The light of a dying star illuminating the faces of people we love,
Framed, perpetually, by the world.



(Inspired by the Photography of Clive  Roughley)
The moon in the bureau mirror
looks out a million miles
(and perhaps with pride, at herself,
but she never, never smiles)
far and away beyond sleep, or
perhaps she's a daytime sleeper.

By the Universe deserted,
she'd tell it to go to hell,
and she'd find a body of water,
or a mirror, on which to dwell.
So wrap up care in a cobweb
and drop it down the well

into that world inverted
where left is always right,
where the shadows are really the body,
where we stay awake all night,
where the heavens are shallow as the sea
is now deep, and you love me.
 Jun 2015 Anna Jones
Riya
You know his favourite smell,
The colour of his eyes when he’s happy,
The curve of his lips with each emotion he feels.
You know him on the inside and out.

He only knows you in the dark.
He knows only the shadow of your bones
The dip of your waist,
The curve of your legs wrapped around his.
He’s mapped out his favourite places to caress,
He’s marked it as his.
His.
His.
Only. His.

You know him.
You know his breath on your neck,
You know his words in your ears,
You know his short breath on your stomach ,
And the feel of his hair.

But you don’t know his gentle touch…
Only his bruising fingers...
You know nothing of his sweet words,
Only the profanity's and curses
You know the purple on your skin,
But you've never felt his burning, lingering touch.

You've always been an escape ;
A Fantasy.
Darling,
you know you deserve to be a reality.

— The End —