I have no tools
where are my tools
I need them now

But now I remember
I threw them away last month
when I told myself I didn't need them anymore
when I said to myself that it didn't matter anymore
that the white lines that lie on my hips and drew blood when I opened them
didn't matter
anymore

But they do
they matter now
and I need my tools back
I need my hand shaking when I flip open the sharp end
I need the colour red to neutralize the blue in my eyes
I need them back again
more than I did last month

There are Amber's and Jade's and Ruby's and Scarlett's in this world
Their spectrum of colours and beauty excel the grey in my heart
I was born in the dust and dirt and I'll die in it
I am not a jewel exposed, like them.

My favourite part of new years
was wandering out into the streets
at 10 minutes past midnight
in a daze of champagne, ***** and lemonade
and peering up into a clear night's sky
and I swear I have never seen that many stars in one place
I watched them
with the background laughter of my drunken friends
discussing tales and myths of what each constellation meant
but who needs tales and myths
or science and maths
when you have bright eyes to see a world so completely beautiful
so complex and so magnificent?
Those stars rained down on my face
such that not even Van Gogh could paint their swirling bloom
such that Shelley and Keats could not write down their metallic romance
only I know that moment

I need you
to calm me down
and just so you know
I have asked my teacher for two essay extensions
and it has taken me three days to write 1000 words
simply because
you are the only thing I can think about right now
and I keep wondering what you're doing

Today I ventured out of the house
for the first time in seven days
there were cuts on my feet as I broke in new shoes
and the wind blew my hair out of place

Christmas lights still danced in the Sunday sky
I was but a watcher of the crowds passing by
until I saw you
no
heard you
and your gentle guitar
you played Simon and Garfunkel (whom I love)
on that gentle guitar

I sat and watched you
for a minute or two
and you caught glimpses of me
and I was writing about you
you had auburn hair and a dazzling smile
and your voice made the December winds seem worthwhile

As I was writing, the song fell away
and you packed up your things and left
and I regret that I forgot to say
how much I loved the song you sang
and your auburn hair and smile
and how you made the harsh December winds seem so worthwhile

She is the unbroken shores of a riverbank
her song billows like the winds in my soul
and her bones weep sorrow
but she is everything to me

A Goddess and a vagabond
lowly in her tide
her song explodes within me
rushing through my internal
shattering my external
summer sun
and winter moon
an infinite power, forever in her pagan shawl
forever in her golden hair
forever in my mind

Peace for Christmas
is what I want the most
there are plenty of glasses around here to toast
make wishes for love and light in your life
peace is what I believe Christmas defines

Forget your religion, it matters for nothing
I want to make my Christmas wish matter for something

So whether Christian, Muslim, Buddhist or Sikh
Jewish, atheist, Pagan, Hindu or simply unique
let peace be the binding factor that we humans all seek
for we are all one skeleton, with the potential for peace

I've tried making friends with Death
on many a dark and crimson night
I would lay in my folly
and watch as Death made his plight.
Stealing children
and mothers
and the souls of the old
watching their chamber rooms
turn murky, chilly and cold

But alas, Death does not need friends
he has told me many a time
but perhaps if Death had a hand to hold
he would not take the hands of the strong,
maybe, he'd take mine.

Death, why do you leave me here?
Why can I not join you tonight?
When you leave, you give no reason
you brush me off, and disappear
into the silvery concaves of the light.

Death, I have touched your scythe
and I want it to graze my neck
I see no future for myself here
only mist and clouds appear in your oubliette.

Death, you are beautiful
your Alabaster flesh crawls in my mind
why does no one else love you, Death?
you are perfect in my eyes.

When you stop choosing the ones who hate you
and make friends with the ones who love you, Death
then maybe
all the souls here around you
can learn to find peace when you lead them to rest.

Bright Eyes: Lua
Loudon Wainwright: Motel Blues
Radiohead: No Surprises
Keaton Henson: You don't know how luck you are
Tigers Jaw: Never saw it coming
Fleetwood Mac: Songbird
Paolo Nutini: Candy
... and your laugh
the clearing of your throat
your sharp intakes of breath
the chattering of your teeth in the cold
and the movement of cloth against your skin

Whispering night fades to sable dull morning
Verda in black whilst her mother is mourning
cabaret clown-show dances in deep
Verda is down in the valleys of sleep

Verda takes pills in a sinister tomb
smiles wicked smiles and her eyes turn to moons
mummy is rocking away by her side
and pulls out her teeth to a sweet lullaby

Girl-child Verda, who loves cuts and bruises
with a stitched-up mind which she frequently loses
and a mother who stops her from having her play
other children are pink but her Verda is grey

Delicate lace is lined in her coffin
Verda in black whilst her body is rotting
chemical residue flows in her veins
Verda's no child and her mother's insane

What's beneath the cosmos?
Whose heart is within the moon?
And in the intersperse universe
does the sun burn a sky in June?

Is there love on other planets?
Are there creatures with hands to hold?
Do stars glow bright
with love and light
or are their hearts all silver and cold?

You might have never been in this world
if a second had fallen through
and this universe may lay in a cosmic womb
so, I'm glad my own is filled with you

I heard him cry that night
lithe and crystalline petals
they were beautiful
and so was he

But a gun is not beautiful
or a rope
or a glistening knife
(it glistens wild with crimson and ivory)
put it down
step away
catch your breath and seize the day
you are so beautiful
and so is she

Go, look in her eyes
those ghostly blue
those pure ****** pools
taste her smile
touch her hand
you are so beautiful
she knows
so put it down
step away
catch your breath and seize the day

You and her are galaxies, dear
beautiful
you and she
so put it down
step away
catch your breath and seize the-

The door is red
the floor is red
the walls are red
my life is dead
you are dead
and so beautiful
so ******* beautiful.

I'll close the door.

Cathy, don't go in the bedroom.

I love the sound of a storming rain when I think about you
I love your lazy hazel eyes
and your hair, gone un-washed, un-brushed for four days

I love your misaligned teeth
grinding away inside a crooked, abstract mouth
I love your protruding nose
your ***** laugh
and your swollen chin

This is a poem not to romanticize you
you're far from perfect
everybody is

You're sat right beside me
and I'm writing a poem about you
and you haven't even noticed

*******

You smell like burnt clementines
and flow like strawberry wine

Pick at my icy veins with your icepick heart
your hands filled with light, and my veins spilling dark

Lay with me in a white lace bed
close your eyes and rest your head

Let me smell your burnt clementine skin
and wash my hands in your strawberry wine again

Stop smiling
you smug *******
I think you know how much I love that smile

Next time you do that
I'll dismantle your ivory jaw
I'll kiss it
and break it apart
so it fits
inside my heart

There are beasts in my garden
soulless garden
dark and deep whimsical garden
full of your violent delights.

And the dragonflies
that drown inside your guts
they don't care if they're hurting you
they are big and bold and lighting struck
like your eyes on a Sunday
wired into me
choking me

The eyes that live forever in my garden
your eyes in my soulless garden

Every ***** in paradise
flocks to you my love
sippin' on that alcohol
oh
you're a cheap dime store drug
but they gotta have you
spilling outta their veins
you got that emotional loving, babe
you got them all in your brain

Whistle while you're working on 'em
and they got tar and love in their lungs
you're still knocking back that whiskey
and they're all living off ***
oh, emotional loving babe
what's a girl gonna do
they crave that emotional loving
but all I crave is you

Today I am consumed by perpetual guilt, largely dominated by the fact I am a hopeless romantic who does not conform to general 21st century ideals of what a good looking woman entails.

Much to my misfortune, I do not have curves in places which would appeal to anybody's tastes. Every day I become increasingly grateful for clothes which hang in such a way which forgive and mask my treacherous, pale carcass. I do not belong to a culture which allows me to obscure my face into hiding, so I am forced to cause suffering to whoever witnesses my bruise framed eyes and morbidly shaped nose at a time when I do not care to improve it.

Night time is filled with intrusive thoughts, and the biggest fear of all; who will lie in bed with me and endure my scar littered skin, my insulting body, and myself, starved and drained of self-worth?
One thing is certain: If I was anyone other than myself, I sure wouldn't.

Stretch the blue veins that frame the lithe skin under my eyes
I can't stand them anymore

'' I am tired, I am weary, I could sleep for a thousand years ''

Oh how true that is
but I mustn't
all these thoughts circle and spin around the curves and the fleshy bulbs of my brain

Honestly
it's a ****** miracle
I'm not already insane.

It was the murky stench of forgotten water
hidden somewhere
in the depths of an ivy-winding garden
and the autumn leaves which crunch into the mixing bowl

The rotting flesh of their midrib and veins
binding themselves a new life with the arms
of trees
which had fallen into the reapers puddle
- this is where they come to die.

Their graves, painting the garden Fallow and Umber
lay buried underneath a distant grey sky
the gloom of an English October is at their wake
and the feet of people
trample on their caskets
no remorse
no pause for thought
for nature's feeble skeleton
slipping out of breath

Every time I think we're done
you smile at me
lips like the sun
and mother of pearl teeth
and once again
I'm in love

*Why do you do this to me

Every time I think we're done
you smile at me
lips like the sun
and mother of pearl teeth
and once again
I'm in love

*Why do you do this to me

In the winter you will lie
soul beguiled and rested eye
deathly dreams that dream to die
In the dead of dusk

In December you will sleep
Stowed away the dreams you keep
The sea inside you, swirling deep
In the dead of dusk

Daytime thoughts of innocence
happiness and diligence
follow you to requiem
In the dead of dusk

Lightest thoughts on surface, you
forget about what's real
what's true
until the dusk envelops you
that dead and demon dusk

Now Winter's winds are calling you
shadows cast on what is true
white cat, now black cat
sun now moon
in the dead of dusk

Everything you thought you knew
sleep will twist and mangle you
nightmares creep inside of you
in the dead of dusk

Morning follows
sun rises up
nightmares dangle on the cusp
disappear now,
Twelve hours burn up
then drag you down
back to the dead of dusk

I never liked crazy hair
before you
and I never liked those gothic trouser chains
that you wear so well
And now I love every pimple on your face
every crack in your voice
every string you break on your old guitar
and everything in between

I hope one day you'll love the gap in my teeth
my crooked nose
my manic laugh
and the lumps in my flesh
every inch of me
the way I love you

How love is difficult
Only part of me functions at a time
When you’re with me
I can speak with my mouth
But I cannot use my brain
And when you’re away
My brain ticks into overdrive
Thinking of your hand grasping mine
But although everything I wish to say to you overwhelms me inside
My mouth can never seem to tell you

The circular confectionery tin has been there every Christmas
often replaced, often changed for a different brand
either way
every year we curse our brains and slap our wrists
for the temptation which overwhelms us
and our carefree nature, wholeheartedly encouraged by our family
''Go on, it's Christmas.''

And so, which one do we select?
of course, the one we like the most
the one with the prettiest wrapper
or the smoothest taste
the one we laugh, bewildered at others for not liking

Sneaking downstairs at night to grab a handful of our favourite flavour
to make sure nobody else can have your preference
until
eventually
all of your favourites are gone
so you settle for the ones you like, but would never choose originally
these are the second best chocolates
they have a mediocre wrapper and a pleasant taste
but they are nothing compared to the ones you would always choose

But now, you've had all of these as well
and you stare into the near-empty tin, rattling with the dull sound of the unwanted chocolates
for a moment you contemplate why anybody would eat those ones first
the colours are mundane and the taste is far from favourable

until somebody else walks past
and they peer into the tin
a hint of pleasant surprise sounds from their lips
''Oh, my favourite.''
And they select the 'dullest' chocolate left in the tin
because the faded purple is their favourite colour
and the sharp taste of orange lacquer is their favourite taste
and they wonder why you ate all the caramel chocolates first
because they would have left them until last

And now the tin is empty
every chocolate loved
by a different person
with a different taste
and when you think about what you truly love
you finally understand

She's perfect
she's flawless
she radiates light
she's faultless
she's matchless
she's purified sight
unmatched beauty
and a conscience so clear
why would heaven have a place for her here?

Earth is like heaven where she will rot and dwell
*an angel like her is destined for hell.

I'm just sad, that's all
too sad to fall
asleep at night
to take a flight
to see a dream
my sadness seems
the pinnacle of my
unmade bed
my restless head
when all is said
and all is done
perhaps I'll run
away again
back to my sleepless sorrow
until tomorrow
my old friend

You're a tree
you're a beautiful mahogany tree
you can wave your branches when the wind allows you
you can shed your leaves and grow some more
you can breathe your love to those who surround you
but rest assured
they'll cut you down

Now you're a human
you're a beautiful human being
you can wave your hands when society allows you
you can change yourself into something more
you can share your love to those who surround you
but those people
*they'll still tear you down.

Suggest I peruse the science of love
experiment, manipulate and spoil
Suggest I strap wires to your heart
and monitor its beat

Suggest I study your eyes
will your pupils act as a looking glass
and will I see me in your rose tinted iris'?

Suggest I swab your hands
to see who has had the privilege to hold them
who isn't me

Suggest I test your lips
for a tongue that has lingered long enough
to be considered concern to me

Suggest I peruse the science of love
would my conclusion be worthwhile?

Or, suggest I not tamper with the nature of attraction
'Tout ce qui sera sera'
love me in the fate of the heart
or indeed
do not love me at all

He was a river
he was my river
he was the depth of the sea and the beauty of the coral ocean
he was one who ran free
free, free and polluted was he
a shivering wreck drowning in the water
but he was my river
my raindrop
my globe
and he was clear enough for me

Wrap you in the hands of a willow tree
bathe you in the salts of the coldest sea
take this piece of gold
marry me

You will have commitment
I will hold your bones with me
I will make a pact to thee
steal the stars for you to see
in your lonely slumber
marry me

Paint with the dust of the crescent moon
dance in the sun in the days of June
sleep in the peace of a winter noon
lose your mind
and marry me