design your body next to me,
close the blinds let’s sleep till three.

choreograph heartbeats
and rendezvous in our dreams.

rewinding roads above box springs,
your toes curl tight around my feet.

when we esplanade under sheets,
high thread counts don't mean a thing.

paper thin skin
the artist’s eye is drawn
moth to a flame
but darling, paper burns

fragile, the softest ashes
they say “it always ends like this”
porcelain quivers
artist’s eyes, closed lids

flicker, just minutes more
please, just one last kiss
tears wet the cracks
and salt your drying lips

this loss, feel it endlessly
let me taste you one last time
something to savour,
to agonise the mind

There’s a square,

The silence kills me.

In which the okay things go.

Unasked questions,

But I stray sometimes.

I want the answer to.

I don’t mean to hurt you.

I've always known
That I'd die in a car accident
Someway
Somehow,

And beneath the
Silent flicks of lightning
Stretching across
A plaster sealed sky,

The world stood still,
Molded out of clay
And gasping for air
Like a drizzled flower petal
Suspended in time,

For a moment so fleeting
It nearly escaped me,
I hoped some drunken
Speeding car
Would smash right into me,

For once not because of the
Complexity and dismemberment of it all,

But because I was okay with dying
In some moment where it all made sense.

if the stone could speak
it would say to the wind
cease this restless seeking
and stay awhile with me

but the stone cannot speak
and the wind rushes on
to the faraway forest;
it dances with the trees

This is not a poem
Or a song that would amuse you
This is me speaking out
Shall we have a little talk?

About the day
About the night
About the clouds
About the sky

About a person
We know we loved
About a thing
We like to have


To hear what you thought
To listen to what you hate
To see with your own eyes
To feel your own storms