and in a second
I realised
that it was not love
I craved

but a deep
understanding
of my soul

for someone
to take the time
to navigate my wounded
heart

dare I say?
take steps to repair it

no. It is not love I want
but salvation in the arms
of an Earthly God

He could tell I wasn't real
somehow. That the space
between us was longer
than the length of his
arm. I talked less
than he did, yet he was
quiet and still

I was to go out
and find a (some)
body to build a house
with. But he is too
much of a person
to shelter under

I never wanted a
garden but I wanted
a place to lie,
to let the sun
lick my back
as I read

I read everything
I couldn't think or
say for myself,
especially to him

He is kind and
tender and
I'm not

It's getting harder to fill
the silences. For my words
to reach my mouth

and I am desperate
to be more than a
ghost searching for
a body to climb
into

To hold

your heart

in my hand

would be

enough

to feel

alive

My body is uncharted territory
(You wish)
A map that teases - taunts
(He said)
The road to Armageddon is paved
(With love, my dear)
The touch of an unpainted nail
(Scratched into my back)
You are mine, now
(Unpin your dress, my dear)
The Holy man slides into me
(I sing a psalm to calm him)
Thrusts and moves
(Blood, deep red, flows)
Kisses me with whiskey lips
(The wrinkles around his eyes)
Exit, stage left, you breathe again
(Ssssh, be quiet my dear)
Unconvinced ears, hostile eyes
(I am real)
Birthing women turn their backs
(See me)
Virgins untrap their wings
(Believe me)

angel eyes,
glance my way
survey how my arms
twist in delight
at the mention of
your name
take in each detail
of my freckles and hair
my haggard heart
has kept its beats warm
for you, kept itself going
for the promise of one
more kiss

angel eyes,
you have the devil
inside you

By the sun flooded window
a single rose opens like a hand

secrets that we carry like
bombs, detonate

shrapnel finds a home in our
hearts

bruised ribs break like the stem of a flower

in the hands of an impatient child

we walk knowingly into the ocean, collecting water in

our cupped hands. Letting it trickle away from us back into

the sea. We are part of a cycle now, in one simple, selfish act

we take life into our mouths when we kiss

twisting it between our teeth, tonguing it like an ulcer

wet, red lips that beg without
begging

a single rock can start an avalanche and we are

many. Heavy footed in the snow, we take death

into our mouths when we kiss, bite down hard into its

flesh. A peach that sits comfortably in a hand

ripe and ready before rotting. How do we know it's death

we're tasting? When the buds of life remain

unopened

I have been here
a hundred times,
where the walls shake
and shrink around
us. oceans. woods.
and skies spinning
out of reach. out
of control but
destiny has it's
own map and
words that
weep like ink
black. bleeding.
where do the
trees end? the
leaves that rip
beneath my
feet. and I am
the air. the soil.
the orange red
flame that dances
from branch to
branch. spreading.
smoking. choking.
devouring.

Like a bird of prey he circles me,

cigarette stained fingers grasping at light, loose cotton

his breath, stained with whiskey
and red wine

dripping with blood as he devours me, soul first, a ripe heart for afters

the whistle of the wind through a cracked chimney ***

where they used to send children, where children died

(I envy them)

I collapse into his words and I know I must succumb to my (un) death

to the weight of twenty stones of fat logged arteries

to a man two joints of red meat away from a heart attack

who is forcing feeding me a glass of water laced with sedatives

I pray to a God who is dead to me
that I want to resurrect

I pray for Cyanine and Arsenic,
kept in a jar

under the bed where he
buries me

Ask anyone, they’ll tell you
she likes to pretend,
red heels and red lipstick,
chest waving between
parked cars,

behind the supermaket
she stripped,
stealing glances
at another’s skin,

to kiss on the concrete,
so close to preachers
pressing papers
into hands,

was like walking
through a thick forest,
lips parted and
desperate for
air

It occurred to me,
suddenly (as I
watched his face
in sleeping sunlight)
that he was a thing
of soft flesh and
warm blood
and not of  
cold deductions
and brutalities

I discovered then
that love was not
the clenching of a
heart, or the pattern
of a pulse in
double time

but the
emptiness of
the seat opposite
you at breakfast

and the bitter taste
of coffees laced with
goodbyes

Dreaming
With eyes wide
Open

Is the same
As running
Blind

A risk
Worth taking
Instead

Of the chocking
Confinements
Of this

God
****
Cage

As a child, I believed in
April, in nights that
drew way from winter,
and pulled sharply into
Spring

the smell of polish
soaking into old oak
furniture

my fingers playing
lightly with the
wind

and daffodils

now, I dread
the frequent showers,
the Easter eggs planted
like mines,

surrounding me

in that moment of
unkowingness, I am a child
again, checking flower beds
for clues and seeking sweetness
in neglected corners
of earth

I was never interested
in hunting until I lost
myself

I belong to the State,
to these nurses who force milk soaked bread into my mouth

to these slaves who stuff trains
with beaten bodies, on to doctors who amputate without anaesthetic

to hard labour and hunger.

my blonde haired mother carried me
in her ayrian womb

Illegitimate.

some are kidnapped, blue eyes
running with tears as they

grab (carefully)

I am banging, bending, breaking
under the weight of their promise that

I am special

and I am proving my right to exist

to be spared
sterilisation, extermination ,
to not be a genetic undesirable
a gas chamber child

no, I am free
to sleep, to eat,
to breathe

allowed to live
because I am a
Lebensborn child

I find myself staring into
the mouth of memory,

wet cotton, fine needles
and wine

my mouth turns wet at
the thought of it

to hold such history
in my mouth

and twist the knives that
my teeth make

into it

He's everywhere
again

the blood that sticks
my lips together

when I wake

the dogs that bark
behind  white washed
gates

the cold grab of
the village drunk

the heat that's taken
from me in rare moments
of sleep

the dark rings under
my eyes that I wear
like rosary

so the devil
I picture holding
hands with you

becoming you

can't see my insides

organs, scattered

rotting

the red, anxious rash
that covers me

the knots and filth in
my hair

He is everywhere

Your voice is my
siren, leading me,
calling me,
my body is broken
on the rocks, tangles
of seaweed in my hair
the smell of salt
revives me and casts
scales of blues and greens
instead of skin and
my hair curling
to gold

Like food,
dreams are rationed

children slip through holes
in buzzing fences

like bees

the light touches
of a fly

unconcerned by chemical spills

and broken hazard
signs

Your fist opens
like a spray carnation

I pick at its pink petals
teasing it to take my fingers
and weave them between yours

for us to hold hands
as the sun beams down on us

burning the flowers to dirt
offering them back to the Earth

You are standing in the middle of a poppy field,

sweet red petals gathering around your bare feet,

their black roots planting themselves in your heart.

You will remember this, when he kisses your neck,

goodnight. You will hear him say he loved you

that day. Your yellow dress gathering about your knees,

skimming the blue bruises that have built up over time

to colour your skin in the way the sea is coloured on a globe of the Earth.

He will think your body an Atlas, drawing rings around the countries

he has visited. There will always be uncharted territory,

another city to discover. He will tell you that you looked

beautiful that day, with your hair dyed silver blonde and

curled. He will trap you in that moment like a photograph,

and sixty years from now he will whisper a word in your ear,

and you will be the girl, standing in a poppy field

again

I thought I meant it,
thirty pills over three days
spaced out like the margins of
a book, double lined

shaken awake, I stir
like a cat roused from it's sleep,
stretching out the length of my body, arching my back, ready to attack

there is the needle, poking veins, collapsed veins that do not shed their blood easily, willingly

the tightness of a blood pressure band, constricting, heartbeat pulsing, ringing in my ears like titinus

the weight of near death, the long wait, internal quiet, external chaos

it breaks

no

(I didn't mean it.)

You are gnawing me down
to the bone

bones

grinding, marrows mixing

blood

red blood that trickles down
my chin

the taste of iron and oxygen

you were my first, you know

(no one will believe that)

blind drunk and filthy finger
nails

scratching out the letters of
my name

my heart withered and weak

ribs breaking under the weight

(the dead weight)

of a man

a gun -
shot wound
to the heart

breathe - just
******* breathe

he won't lie
still and the
red pool reaches
nearer

reaching like a
hand towards
me

at my feet

I stare at it
and remember
laughing

we didn't laugh often

I'm not like
that

but we would succumb
occasionally

I remember the feel
of his hair - the
way the roots
felt as I brushed
from them with
my fingers

my fingers remember
the touch of his
coat

the scratchy,
uncimfortable
fabric

why did he wear
the ******* thing?

the scarlet stain
has reached my toes
now

I fight the urge
to place my hand
in his

I need to focus
He needs to -

focus

please, just listen
to my voice

put your heartbeat
into it

into me

control

control

control

he is becoming
heart -
less

why has he
choosen me
to save him?

twice now

he says I matter
the most but it's
*******

he doesn't want me
he wants my
skills

to find a body
and fake
it

to wait years
no - two years
in silence so heavy
I feel like my lungs
have collapsed

and now to pull him
through - back through
the cavity in his chest

to force the blood
back into his breaking
body

whilst my hands
shake with fear

night terrors

and the shape of
his face as I
dragged him

(back to life)

by the roots of
his hair

In the dark
we touch
souls

not knowing
if we exist
at all

Let me see with eyes that have
never seen the stars in the sky

give me a tactile map of the constellations

so I may feel the might of Orion
like my feet feel the cracks in the pavement

give me this, so that I may know
the beauty I am missing
and weep

I long to feel the craters of the moon
in exchange for never seeing its phases

why can’t I touch the sky!?

my fingers are already itching,
feeling the heat from star fire

my heart is grieving for what I’ve lost
my eyes grow heavy and close

(as if they were ever different, open…)

as I realise that this midnight world
is not meant for me to see

Rose petals litter the bed

and where you see beauty
I see only the dead flower

ripped from its roots, dirt clinging to its stem

a pink blossom, a ruddyred thorn

piercing my chest as my heart beats, irregularly

a feeble twitch, a caffeine shake

skin pulled tight, scarred, the wrappings of muscle and blood

kohl and red ochre,
like Cleopatra

(undone)

Ophelia drowned herself
two weeks ago. Submerged,
head first, into the lake.

Air bubbles formed
at the corners of
her mouth until
one by one
they burst;

She couldn't shout.

The black ink thickens,
as she sinks.

Deeper,

Curls clinging
to her cheeks.

Her frozen pulse quickens,

and the last

beat

of

her

heart

sends ripples that disturb
the silence.

I can hear you now.

A heartbeat that swells
like an ocean, weak and pink
from the sun

I try to breathe, breath in, breath out, in sync with
the beating of this broken
heart

It rattles around, full of brain
pills and memories, and each beat shakes me down to the bone as I

gasp in the filthy air, the taste of aeroplanes and migrating birds, tickling my tongue.

I take it in, with a breath that pulls from the bottom of my cigarette wrecked lungs and I count my

pulse.

I am a part of everything, with this beating, broken heart that persists like a ****

consuming a garden, the dandelion, the yellow root of

the sun

We mouthed what we wanted to say,
or else kept our lips locked like ventriloquists,
as we tried to send electric shocks through our fingertips.
Our life wires connecting under the sheets,
through the soft cotton fabric lightly brushing our knees.

Who are we to deny it's charges?

The trembling that starts
in our toes and rises like water
through our veins,
as warm as wine,
filling our bodies up
with the kind of love
you only find on postcards.

Are we just on holiday?

He didn't force me, I walked into that house willingly. Eager steps to escape the row of cars, the buzz of people.

I kissed him. Sweet cannabis stained tongue. I took his mouth into mine and held it, like a breath underwater.

I chose my own drinks, paid for them myself. Counted coins and pinned my hopes on you and your fake ID.

I remember it well. No force. No bait. The chatter of strangers in a cramped kitchen as I tried to sleep.

I left the door unlocked. Would anyone? Footsteps on soft carpet, quietly caught me, unawares.

Hands and tongues carve scars into my body. The kind that don't turn silver and fade. A permanent reminder of Hell.

Something changed within me that night. A new found fear. Sudden terror at an innocent touch. The people, too loud. The sun, too bright.

Scrutinising me. Judging me. Burning me down to the bone.

Before the coma,
silence was a virtue
we never indulged in

we would talk
until our throats
bled, our tonsils
burning as if
speaking words were
as warming as
eating raw chillis

we'd tuned our vocal
chords finely, semi -
tones were for
mornings as much as
black coffees

our bodies were
strings and ***
was just another
chord

a tangle of
limbs wrapped in
copper wire

after the car hit
you, we stopped.

the silence that took you
was big enough
for two

He turned wine into water
and took the sea
into his mouth -
salt filled and raging
wild with waves

but I am not a mermaid
and I do not sing a
siren song, to lure
him in

I smoked a cigarette
and waited for him
to turn that mouthful
back into wine

sharing an alcoholic
haze of memories
untangling

we are destined to be
one more sip away
from oblivion

At some point,
I think everyone
dreams of fire

to burn bridges
down, tumbling
rubble, metal
melting back into
lava

you could start again,
then, It would be
easy enough

I’m not saying
that I like to
watch the skins
of structures peel

but who doesn't
look at a burning
building and feel
something more
than fear

something more
than loss

something more like
hope

and excitement

a racing heart
that soars above
the sirens

and sends
voices, through
pulses, into your
ear

you could run into
that, you know

you could pull
someone out

save something

you could make it
beautiful

I will not repent
for these scars
on my skin

a battle journal
of a war
I fought
hard to
win

I am marked
by life

unashamedly
growing blossom
from these
silver branches

I will not beg
for acceptance
for my being

I will simply
be

You were a magpie

you stole the root of me
bare bones and arteries
and now I am

a shell
stood shaking
in my skin

forever

The wishes of raindrops
led me to you -

a transparent pearl that
glistens on the petal of

a flower

teetering on the edges of
life, a kiss away from

falling

forgetting, forgotten in the folds
of earth

a ***** away from being dug
up, exposed like

a raw nerve. The calcium in
your bones

spread unevenly through
your spine

so that you must stoop
to touch me

I am a lion's tooth -
a flower blown on the whim of

a wish

Words, put together
on strings, made to look
like pearls

instead they're drops
of blood, bits of ourselves
that tell, like fingerprints
that show up under
certain light

we let it seep
through the curtains,
as we wait for each
other to wake

our nails
clawing, digging, sinking
into each others flesh

lightly
tracing the red
stutters that
appear

the smell
of iron rising through
our bodies as

they spread

It's a romantic city
(apparently) but
for me it's

the wet London streets
I walk to reach you

stale milk in coffee
shop teas, sugar spoons left
on greasy table tops

the drizzle of rain
relentlessly beating

the orange lights of
taxis, magnified
in the droplets

***** staircases that take
me underground

the songs talk of
Waterloo Bridges
and sunsets

that bounce off the
Thames, as if the water
is polished glass

but I sat there one night
crying, my heart breaking
over South Bank

and the sunlight was never the same

give me battered books
piled dangerously in doorways

dusty corners of theatres

and the rain

I will not stop because
you have stopped

I will look out of windows
and smile at faint traces
of snow

I will lick the sugar from
my coffee spoon

just like I lick the sugar
from your lips

I will watch waves crash
against rocks

feels waves wash against
my bones

I will read all the books in our library, twice, and stick post
it notes to mark the pages

because you never let me
keep place

keep pace with myself

I will **** the juice out
of an orange and let it
dribble down my chin

and stick there

I will not die inside
like you have
died

I will be childish and brave

curious and compassionate

I will do the things you
say I am too old
to do

and I will smile
reckless and
young at heart

as I slip between
the sheets

old age and cynicism
so close to brushing
my skin

as I try to avoid
touching you

I am myself whole,

no longer a fraction
of a second away
from fading

imagining an ocean
to stop my heart from
hammering

through my ribs,
bursting through
my chest

birthing something
unknown, unwanted
and caged

I am a timid bird but
nervous wings still
flutter, still fly

I am reaching into
the darkness,
arms outstretched,
eager, fearlessly
facing the future,

running blind

you have
the whole
universe
swirling
inside
you

you
must
be
on
fire

I grew up with
an apple tree,
growing right in front
of my door

each year,
they would swell,
bright red skin
stretching around
white flesh

my grandfather
would pick the
sweetest and
hold it out
to me

saying how sad
he felt when he held
me before my mother
had named me

how I never believed
in Santa and liked
to lick the lemon
pips off his fingers
when he made
lemonade

I was growing up
so fast, he'd say,
but my roots
would always sleep
beneath his feet
with the apple tree

I take tea in the afternoon
as I wait to hear his foot -
falls approaching

I am on
edge until they
kiss my ears in their
heavy booted sound

I add sugar cubes
distractedly, as my
mouth adjusts to
the taste of him

a heaviness on my
lips, upon my neck,
the scratch of a scarf
that looks softer

I imagine the scratch
of a vampire fang to be
worse and breath in and
out my prayers that at
least he is by my side
before nightfall

he is a thing of
paleness and impatience,
I am a woman who works
the dead into shapes
that speak

we both seek answers
but know they will not
be found in the arms of
each other

yet still,
our hearts beat
as one

You unhook me like
a fish, still shaking
and terrified of being
eaten

as you let me go
I feel the weight
of you

against me

my face turned
seeking not to
see you

I am the flesh
and bones of
you

the carcass that
lies motionless and
rotting

outside in

I have lingered on
the edges of this
lake, like a flower

or the decapitated head
of a child's doll,
no longer interested
in playing

I remember counting pennies
with the wrinkled hands of my grandfather,

gnawed fingernails and cracks full of antiseptic,

hands that had once held a gun steady now shake with effort

bronze circles of currency stacked in piles of ten,

ten fingers to wrap around a hot mug of coffee

black, four sugars, as milk has started to curdle in his age wrecked stomach

we count, we stack, we wait,
we laugh as the pounds pile up,

ten,

ten fingers to fret the instrument his protruding ribs have become

ten fingers to hold as the IV goes down

ten fingers to mould dough and break bread, like his wife did before she

stopped

ten fingers for doctors to tap on
blue, collapsed veins

ten seconds to share his strung out last breath

ten fingers, ten toes, keep moving

you taste of ink and blood

and words that have been chased
with too much whiskey

but I will drink from your lips
until both our hearts

shudder like stars

till we are left, merely bones
shaking in a shroud of skin

I have burns
on my hands
from touching
you

as the blisters
burst

I feel you
eradicate
my fingerprints

and

(again)

I

become

nothing...

I can taste
the metal
of the sky,
steel stars and
aluminium moons,
iron gates,
shielding hearts like
a rib cage, but ribs
break
and the iodine smell
of broken skin
seeps into the
floor, like a blood
stain
bright red at first,
but dulling to
a ***** brown
I am Eve
before the apple,
my snake
merely butter-
fly and I can
see Adam, reach
his hand towards
me, lips smirking
as he feels me
twist, like tin
foil, away
from his
waist

speaking softly on rocks

that cut our thighs through our jeans

the contrast not going unnoticed

but this is how it is for us, always

a painful contradiction of love and hate

in the same breath

a swelling heart, deflating in a second

but we would not be lovers

if love was a straight line

(anyway)

The man beside me talks in his native tongue,
I hear the accent, broken and beaten out of him yet still,
strong
he is talking of crossings and kindness, a welcome mat on the door of another
country
his coffee skin is spooned like sugar, people either take or leave
it
and the sound of waves crashing over a rubber boat
and the cries of children as icy water hits their not yet weather worn faces
pregnant women rummaging in bins for bread and the skin and bones of men,
beaten, broken, seeking comfort from an unkind face
a border, protected and a land that needs purging, a plague of fear and the man, beside me
who I cannot understand except in his heartbeat and in mine, synchronised organs that know nothing of race, fear and hate that breeds and blossoms like cherry trees. Peeling back skin and language, I hold his hand, as the ashes of the world fall on us all.