I have always been under the impression,
Or been surrounded by, that
Women are far too sophisticated to be
held down by material things.

They don’t need television, all they have is
the sun, whether they like it or not,
When the moon joins the sky at night and
Where their fires flame in conversation.

Beyond men, myself, because of subtle
Behavioural conditioning differences in
youth
Women taught insecurity.
This in turn makes for a heart to heart
person, trust, loyalty, kindness.

Or maybe it’s just my
Mother
The one person, there’s only one.
This one has taken up so many others’
places in my life, scattered amongst every
good soul
I see my mother.

The most sophisticated. A loyal song
Beyond anyone’s understanding but I think
I am
Nearly there. Close enough to touch it
Far enough to keep itself
From entrapment.

Love, her

The father of our child becomes obsessed
And forgetful,
Letting his new life eclipse the things that
Made up his old life.

You came to me in a state of euphoria and
Bliss,
I came back at you for you to apologise
You demon.

How could he have known how much he
Had left me wilted,
Now there’s little use in watering my soil
But at least give me a burial.

There’s so much I could say regarding
Your deals with the unholy,
So much you made me do to try and undo
What happened.

It took months to come back,
And now I just hate at the sight of
Pleasure for myself.

I can only see your hand but you forgot
You had hands back then,
If you had been in an accident I would’ve
Taken them from you.



On the Thursday you told me you loved
Me,
However the Tuesday was exceptionally
More romantic.

I left you to be oppressed by your parents
And squashed by your own head,
Yet you want to talk to me and I say you
Know but you forget.

I’d take your hand if you were here,
Destroy them and inhale.

Where’s the romance in a coffee house, where’s the romance in my ability to see
the romance in a coffee house. Clearly the romance belongs to those who aren’t aware of the romance.

We who see it cannot participate in the romance. Just observe. Whether it be
ironic or envious, either way, there’s no way to ever burn your vision and experience and replace them with brand new lenses.

Where’s the contentment in your own home and life, wheres the contentment in my ability to see
the contentment in your own home and life. Clearly contentment belongs to those who fall on hard times and, in a bitterness, strive for contentment.

Those who don’t have it and never will, spit on those who do, not out of hate, or out of jealously,
but out of pity. Like romance, within romance, contentment can cause comfortability,
And terrific misery. Welcome the misery though, you’ll never get to experience this again once you
Cast it away.

Where’s the misery in anxiety and depression, where’s the misery in my ability to see
the misery in my anxiety and depression. Clearly misery belongs to those who are
Possessed by their anxiety and depression, but, not taken over by it. Clearly misery belongs to those who
Are close to those who are possessed by their anxiety and depression, and like a exorcism, the
Loved one dies in an attempt to extract the devils.

Every dead fly
Crushed beneath your feet
Splintered into the sole
Limbs dragging along the floor.
I’m watching you as I observe this
As I write this
You’re nice but cruel
Explaining your troubles.
Only you make the simplest things
Burst with malice
And I feel sorry for you
That you have to receive my invisible
Cruelty.
You’re still wearing those shoes
And the fly is still on the floor
Like a butterfly.
Would this life taking influence
The future
Holds my tired voice
Barely reciprocating your speech.
And replying just for nothings
But genuinely receiving and
Reaching out to you
That happens often.
Just those cruel moments are so few yet
So impactful
They switch my entire view
Spin it to see your red air.

When you grow older,
The fondest memory you have is of
Plucking her hair from her scalp.

And she appears in the mirror behind you,
Tying the straps to your wrist
To be gazed upon from the bed posts.

Just attempt to forget that incident,
Why it’ll only spoil things
When they can be so perfect.

She doesn’t appear in the dreams,
Just after
Just enough form to wrap around me.

I don’t understand the figures,
I pray they are not people I have seen
I shall see that face for days and days.

The figures want to get me,
They are spawns of her
And I know so for they terrify me and wake me.

As she arrives I shall know whether this is realm
Whether or not she is the director of my madness
Or wether or not she is my madness.

I am attracted to her darkness,
The opposite of a moth
Except for leaving a stain along the road.

I ran with the beautiful man in makeup
being so afraid, the bombs getting closer
and closer towards someone I once loved.

The endless road stretched far into the
side of the hill, a bunker room filled with
background people and only one love.

Where am I in this blitz world? To be sure
I’ll have to sacrifice myself, leave the door
open and welcome the vampires.

But if that makeup man should lose his
precious creased smile, one day the wind
shall wipe away and it’ll vanish.


All my friends are there under the comfort
of the imminent doom. We found solace in
war and memories in darkness.

In this dream of reunion people were
missing. But they were replaced with
those I have chosen to be family.

This family is not aware of my addition to
to their home. Under one roof we thrive
and revel to continue deflecting the blitz.

So the school party leaves the simulation
for a more obscure living. Gods plan was
to make ours a more ingenuous life.

To make it painful he had to make it
painless. We mask and hold off the bombs
to free us so we can run smiling.

The tragic air of someone
you love,
Expels the fiery and watery
deaths,
And instead attracts a much
simpler end.

Missing the first light
night of summer.
The birds never fed decide to go
someplace else.
Left alone in the last snowfall of my
first year.

No more early mornings where
we don’t even see each other,
And when we swapped positions for the
goodnight,
It marked the beginning of
the end.

I know this may sound sombre but it’s
precious.
You’ll leave behind so much, if only the
other life would
allow your possessions.
The books most of all, I don’t know how
but I shall get
through them in my first year.