Please teach me that
Things are not always bad.
Please teach me that
Our endings won't
Always be sad -
Help me find warmth
When times are cold -
Tell me a story of hope
That I have never been told,
Turn my rusty heart into gold -
Stay sitting still my little silhouette,
Just let me convince you that
It's not time to go home yet,
We'd be each others' shadows,
Even in this pitch-black night,
We'd be those people that we've
Only heard about,
Who'd had each-other to hold tight,
Help me to focused my heart
As it were a telescope
Catching the light of your galaxy,
And to fit it in to this puzzle, my counterpart,
For we shall always and ever have hope,
More then enough to fill a sea -


- Lola Rose & Jamie F. Nugent

Physically falling apart
Like pound shop Barbies do
After a touch too much -
Love letter paper cuts
Juxtaposed between
Some sordid sore fingers,
The scarlet blood that gushes
Brilliant like a sun-set,
Twitching and gloaming
In, our and around
Consciousness like it is
Revolving door,
Spinning,
Spinning,
Spinning
On ballerina feet,
Turned pink to scarlet,
Made misshapen
By dances
Of rapture
And grace-

-Jamie F. Nugent

It's always  
so vacant
It's always
so empty inside,
When there is
plenty, and
When there is
plenty to hide -

I love you,
but
sometimes
I mess up,
clasp onto
Apologies
that fit
in a cup -

It's always  
the exact same,
When we (again)  
play this game,
like puppet and
puppeteer,
There's no winner
(or loser) here,
just an imperfect
trifling heart,
Then we go  
right back  
to the start -

-Jamie F. Nugent

You are the Dove,
My thing with clipped wings,
I cannot soothe you from confines
That are interposed around you and I,
I surrender and crumble at your feet,
Under love and love's weight,
This avalanche falling into place,
Creature that can't leave -

You are the Swan,
Fleshy feather-breasted thing,
My crept-up companion,
Tired and ridiculous,
That badly mistook my nature,
That chewed me to the bone,
And stopped when I became bitter,
Creature I left -

You are the Hummingbird,
Gorgeous and fragile,
My unfamiliar hand when yours gripped,
Graciously showed me up the staircase,
At the foot, we stood on the flight,
And subsided to where we'd not be seen,
I could quite touch you from where you where,
Creature perched atop this heart -

-Jamie F. Nugent

We are two Manet portraits,
Hanging in a Parisian gallery,
Expect I think I might be a forgery,
Only worth my frame,
I wish I were the real thing,
But instead, I am just
Your fraudulent imitation,
But I feel fine by your side -
You are Berthe Morisot,
Holding a Bunch of Violets,
And I am the Boy
Carrying a Sword -
And down the hall,
A da Vinci dissipates,
Oh, joy for our youth,
And at the other end,
A Warhol silkscreen
Waits in adolescence.

-Jamie F. Nugent

A breezeless kite,
On the beds edge,
Daydreams in a coma -
With Jazz
For my ears,
And jelly
To sweeten -
All my guts
Spilled out
Like sour milk,
And my thoughts
Filled up
Like some closet
Of old cardigans,
Woolen, soft
And ugly
In this dead heat -
And somewhere
A cardboard-town
Is falling apart,
On top of itself
In the rain -
Oh, what I'd give
To be a supernova
Or just a kite
Flying in the breeze.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Scott Greene was a man of vast wealth, and also of vast anger and sadness. His wealth he inherited from his late father, or rather, the company that his founded, a leading manufacturer of contact lenses. His anger and sadness he inherited from his wife, Mary, or rather, an argument that they had. Mary had found a brazer not belong to her, all black-laced and in measurements suited for a slimmer, not doubt, younger woman. In the past several weeks leading up to the find, Mary had a great suspension of Scott's jilted ways, and now after cleaning under the bed, Mary had finally found tangible proof of her husband's paramour. The fight ensued the movement Scott came from his daily grind. With a livid Mary holding up Scott's lover's garment in a fist clenched so tightly it turned reddish and throbbed. The underwear was displayed like evidence like a courtroom. How Scott wished for a lawyeresque individual who would lie for him and talk his way of all this. But, alas, feeling unlucky and alone, like a Magpie, Scott just wanted to fly away from all of this, or swim, or dig and crawl away through the dirt. Scott just stood there in the high-ceilinged mansion hallway as Mary, his once lover, screamed awful and ugly things at him. Scott had stopped listening, instead wondering how long she could keep up screaming until she felt that red piercing pain in her throat and could not stand to scream any longer. However curious, Scott was adamant to find out, instead opting to leave and go anywhere that wasn't where he was right then.

Scott yelled, depressed by his own voice, that he was going for a drive. Coldly, Mary called him spineless, the worst thing she could think of. She waited for Scott to leave, then started to cry alone in the near-empty house. Scott, still dress in fine gray suit from work, walked briskly past his horses in the stable to his garage, and into his favorite car, the Rolls Royce, Phantom. Nothing but the finest. Scott turned the ignition on and turned the radio up to try and clear his aching head.

Scott drove to an all-night diner just out of the town. After what seemed like mere seconds, Scott was there. As he opened the diner door, a bell chimed. Looking around with that eyes that darted around the room left-to-right as if watching a tennis game, Scott found that his only company was the staff and a few large truck drivers who stared and made Scott feel out of place. He sat away from them, at the other end of the place. A young, dark-haired waitress came to take his order. "What'll be, sweetie?" she queried, "Coffee, black" Scott answered, looking her in the eyes. He thought her eyes very pretty, yet having a little gloom in them too. Scott got a quick look at the name-tag draped on her breast before she walked away; It read Jane. Scott watched her walk away, her slender splendor and eyeing her legs and lower thighs poking out of her seductively short work skirt. Scott flirted with the notions of flirting with her. After all, what was left to lose?

He thought to himself. But after opening his wallet to pay for the coffee, the little photo-both snapshot of Mary he kept inside his wallet make him think twice. On the reappearance of the radiant waitress, she asked Scott if that would be all he wanted. "Yeah, I'm good for everything else" Scott said. As the waitress walked away, Scott stared at the spoon on his saucer. Its contoured reflection showed his face silvery, upside-down and all stretched out and bent. Scott then looked at the design on the wall next to him. The pattern was of hula dancing girls playing red ukuleles. Scott's mind rushed back to his and Mary's Hawaiian honeymoon, years ago. How the honeymoon was truly over. Scott began to drink his coffee, it was pleasant. Scott picked up a salt shaker from the tabletop. He swerved it in his hand and looked at the salt inside, overlapping on top of itself. Suddenly, Scott felt so small and valueless, and that he belonged inside the shaker, buried underneath the salt, away from everything, he thought is surely easier than everything. Scott finished his cup and thought it time to return home.

Scott excited the tragic diner, got into his car, and drove home. While driving through the driveway, he noticed the bedroom lights still on. He thought Mary must only be going to bed just now. Scott would wait a few moments before entering and then go to sleep in the guest bedroom. Mary was a heavy sleeper. In the meantime, Scott parked the car and then walked to the stables to visit his favorite horse, April, who a colossal Clydesdale with a glossy brown coat with a snow-white mane. Scott went into the stall, he slowly began to brush her mane. He knew there was no point in talking to her, but did so, just feeling good getting the words out. Scott told the great animal his worries, fears, and hopes. After a while, Scott started to feel his eyes heavy, and thoughts of going to bed seemed satisfying. In a sleepy stumble, he reached out and suddenly touched the horse, saying fondly "Goodnight, April". Then everything went to black. Early the next morning, Mary found Scott on the stable floor, his skull in several pieces from April's startled kick.

She wept.

But life's just like that,
Sometimes you open
the kitchen door
to let out a bee,
and a wasp flies in.

Drainpipes,
sticking tight to legs,
old news,
Rain wipes away
brown dirt from black shoes.
Your tragic bow and arrow,
made from my bone marrow,
Your magic aim,
where you hit your mark,
no matter how narrow.
Sailing down streams
made of necessary day dreams,
Failing to fail schemes
of winning,
by any means.
You have the only two
possessions worth having,
beauty and youth.
Moments in time,
frozen by a photo-both.
You know it can never
stay this way,
Not even looking the same
as you did yesterday.

-
Jamie F. Nugent

The mongrel lays stow in drowse
In her wooden colorless doghouse,
With five half-blooded pups;
Tussling softly and loose-limbed,
Ringroundabout at her breast -
The rain has surged at last,
This world is now grey yet beautiful,
This drizzle of cloudburst
Gushes and rushes like a nosebleed -
The unapproachable splendor
of the empyrean coming undone
(Bababadalgharaghtakamminarronn-
konnbronntonnerronntuonnt­hunnt-
rovarrhounawnskawntoohoo-
hoordenenthurnuk)
Oh what a chocolate-box day
For five-tuplet pups , black as coal,
White as a swan and brown as oak
to be tussling softly in.


- Jamie F. Nugent

Put your blue silk dress for me,
Until I can see just how it fits,
In this grand old scheme of things -

When you grow old, as will I too,
I will ask you, a little louder of voice -
Put on your blue silk dress for me -

I will love your creases, your slight tears,
And all your colors then faded,
They won't seem any less bright to me -

I will cherish all of them,
As I cherish all of you, fresh as rain,
At this moment of moments, you in

These simple threads of a worm's silk,
Dawned upon such complex a creature,
Impossible grand thing, you are -

In heels high, spoiling your feets' shape,
Standing tall, if not just taller then me,
Abandoning your blue silk dress for me.

-Jamie F. Nugent

In the brisk night air of the city,
The crowd in the bar and the music
Spill out into the street like stale beer.

Sharing drinks and discussions
With Swedes and rock n' rollers,
Surprisingly found delightful.

No lack of slumber will slow us,
The nighthawks flying close over
The gulls swimming in the grimy river,

And on a second stolen glance,
Sometimes the world is so small,
So pleasurable, so far and so good.

-Jamie F. Nugent

The amount of times,
I've nearly burned this house down,
"Accidentally".

-Jamie F. Nugent

Kids count kisses in Liverpool,
Romancing their way through school,
Boys whispering to the liars by streetlight,
Softly dancing with the girls tonight.

Sixteen rooms fall into place,
All the boys, they grab at Grace,
Louise can't hold on to her hair;
She touches a cigarette,
Smokes a pair.

Necklaces taking gently,
I stop to taste the smiles,
Frowning skeleton resents me,
She should stop for a while.

Sitting slowly,
The velvet petticoat sings,
Running underground,
Wineglass without wings
Cheap windows feel the high heels,
Dancefloor crawling, we're made of steel.

Necklaces taking gently,
Stop to taste the smiles,
Frowning skeleton resents me,
She should caress me for a while.

-Jamie F. Nugent

You stood like
A hundred dominoes;
At the foot of my bed, like
At the foot of Vesuvius,
The permanent
Shadow puppets
You left on my walls,
Of Snow Leopards and
Yellow-Eyed Penguins, in
Wilderness,
Smelling of magnolias
And silk.  

-Jamie F. Nugent

Your sharp tongue
moving behind your teeth,  
I felt it roar and clamor
in tumults of confusion,
In a hullabaloo of
hurly-burly upheaval,
The wickedness is as
heavy on my shoulders;
As it is on yours,

Against my mouth
yours did beat and bicker,
This flickering bedside-lamp
of bedlam disarray,
Revenge is ice-cream
when you and I scream,
Too sweet and too sticky,
I feel full of sickness
and sorrow,

Don't we deserve
our just desserts
A little less
nauseating?

-Jamie F. Nugent

Loveless,
Love-letters,
That's what I'll send you,
That's what you'll send me.

Endless;
Dead end streets,
That's where I'll send you,
That's where you'll meet me.

Sleepless,
Insomniatic coffee-water drips until
It will dry up in the morning,
When the sun hits.

When the sun hits,
They will no place to hide away,
No lachrymose place to run to,
When the sun hits.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I met her first
in the afternoon,
in May,
When the streets
were crowed with people;
living their lives.
She stood leaning
on an old green postbox.
She was a friend of a friend.
She said she had seen
my face before somewhere,
I was not so sure, I undoubtedly
would have remembered hers.
Her face was like
an actress' from the '50's,
one that was usually
reserved in black and white or
preserved in monochrome,
Bette Davis style.
But nonetheless it
was there before me,
in youth and charm.
The way she spoke and
pronounced certain
words peculiarly,
she was very like
myself in that way.
Its been said,
that if you get everyone
on Earth to stand in a line,
one by one,
that you will never find
someone just like you.
But I think that
sometimes you
come close, and
I surmise that
I came pretty close
that day.
I wanted to tell her,
but did not;
Knowing how absurd
it would sound,
I grasped it inside.
She moved
when she spoke,
just a child would
be all jittery and
unable to stand
still after too many
sugary things.
Always, there was
that that hyper-activeness
running through
her body like
electricity.
But all the while,
her voice was silk.
She had my humor too,
anytime I made jokes,
she would laugh.
It was such a
brilliant laugh,
the kind that poured out
and poured
out in big bursts
and did not give a ****
who heard
or judged.
Even when she was
slightly smiling,
you could still
see her teeth,
perfect and white,
like a toothpaste
advertisement.
She was not afraid
to look anyway at all.
Her face was
naked without makeup,
she did not paint over
any blemish at all.
She knew that people
had their flaws,
and it was those people
who laid their
flaws bare to the world,
they were the ones
the brave ones.

- Jamie F. Nugent

Breaking glasses,
Smashing plates,
Spilling hot food across the carpet,
Chilled white wine, splashing on the tabletop,
The chef shouts and holds a knife,
The women and her children,
Seeking a hiding place
Under dinner tables and tablecloths,
The sounds of his screams are
Glossed by the smooth jazz through the walls,
His rag-time tantrum,
He was done taking orders
And all he got
Was a wine bottle
On the back of the head.

-Jamie F. Nugent

In the nick of time,
You held a candle
To my hands - trembling
Just before my
Fingers turned blue;
I allure into
Your flickering flame,
Heating my bones.
The dogeared pages
Of your open book,
I could be your bookmark
For a while,
Just until the last chapter.

--Jamie F. Nugent

We swam out to
The lake's center,
Just to get away
From the rest,

We swam out to
Our little handmade
Island, floating still
Like a dead whale,

We feel into a siesta,
and woke up
Sun-burnt
And glad.

- Jamie F. Nugent

These nights are so sleepless,
When you're in such deep bliss,

Sometimes love feels so loveless,
When we're so turtledoveless,

These kisses are so painless,
It almost feels aimless,

These fingers of mine,
Right down your spine,

Under trees,
Under a star,
Hidden beneath,
Those rain-clouds of ours.

But I still let out some sighs,
Long after goodbyes,

The sooner I'm gone -
Sooner you can get on,

Forget all about me, dear,
Like a ghost that was never here,

We might fall in love someday,
But for now, we're strangers come Monday.

He perched on the edge of the bed,
a study in confusion and misery.
He landed badly, and crawled away.
Then rose and got dressed.
He had slept the sleep of the innocent
and he drowsed away the morning -
He strolled to the window to drink in the view.
Swallowing his first coffee cup's worth
and smoking his last cigarette fondly,
he had a gone feeling when in wonder,
How long has it been since
she left the house, the room, the bed?
He had ought to turned her away
but was always too soft-hearted.
He still told himself that
this would be the last time.

-Jamie F. Nugent

in this
mornings's
corridor,
there were
no smiles,
no frowns,
just lips -
in sorrowful
straight lines,

all of us,
the same
thoughts,
the same
feeling,
all of our
numb minds
put into a
rosewood
box.

- Jamie F. Nugent

The South African sun caused my
Eleven year old eyes to squint.
Sat in the stadium, my father and I,
Sweated and watched rugby;
A father - daughter tradition.
That Saturday afternoon was the final,
The stands were crowded and full,
Like a fish-tank ready to burst
At any moment.
In front of my father and I,
There sat a dark-haired woman
In a lose fitting jersey.
About forty minutes in,
She bent down, sudden and quick,
Her head, hitting her kneecaps,
She screamed her intense screams;
Muffled in her own bent body,
Some spectators thought her crazy,
She continued her whails, and soon
A small crowd grew in front of us,
One man pulled her straight in her seat,
Her hands, her face, her her legs and stomach
Were all drenched red with blood.
No one ever heard the gunshot;
They traced it back to its origin,
Two hundred meters away,
Fired from a building by the stadium.
The bullet just happened to land where it did,
And the game went on.


- Jamie F. Nugent

He was a Beatle and she was a Stone,
She was a Pistol and he was a Ramone.

On the street where
The birds actually tweeted,
The bees did indeed buzz,
That street smelling of
Sweet grease
From the chip shop,
That is where
He held her hand,
And just to watch,
Gave me knots
In my insides,
The way he pulled her
And dragged her,
Showing off
His property
To the world.

-Jamie F. Nugent

This night is so sleepless,
This love feels so lovless,
These kisses are so painless.

Under trees,
Under stars,
Hidden behind
Rain-clouds.

To still feel fingers of yours,
Down my spine,
Long after our goodbyes,
Gives bliss.

-Jamie F. Nugent

She once read me her poems,
But the knotical ones,
Not the ones that revealed
Her tragic secrets or past.

That was when I know
She would sooner see me
Become her castaway
On a desert island,
Then on her ship,
Sailing away,
Or standing with her
Hand in hand,
On a beach,
Throwing stones
Into the sea.

I could feel the water seeping through
And knew that our shipwreck
Wasn't too far away or too long now.

And after all out simplicity
After our final curtain fell,
I was just left standing in the dark,
On top of the parts and pieces
Of her sombre ship,
That I stole from her
Like a kiss,
She watched me sail away
As I watched her sink.

-Jamie F. Nugent.

At times, we were
Statues in a museum gallery -
Crumbling -
I took pieces from you,
And you from me,
But we always felt
Empty-handed; after
La petite mort.

Still, some our days were
Perfect afternoons spent
Swimming in the late,
Or sometimes the river,
When the sun beat down,
In orange boxing gloves,
Melting you and I,
Like butter on toast.

- Jamie F. Nugent

People live in the shadows
Of each other,
People ride on the coattails
Of each other,
People hand out their
Fairweather friendships
To each other,
(But only temperately)
People build walls around
Each other,
And around themselves,
Some people will **** you
With a smile,
Or a kiss,
That drags you down to
The deepest frozen depts,
Until you're at the bottom
Right with all the rest.

- Jamie F. Nugent

I am trying to drown out these thoughts of you,
With the crescendo of a piano,
As it weeps in the key of C minor,
And by the pluck of string
After ***** string,
The drone of musettes melancholic,
The THUMP and SMASH of drums,
Getting louder all the time,
Until this room shakes;
Then I'm not the only thing shaking,
I can't feel it in my head,
Just the magnificent thunder in my chest,
And the pounding thud in my stomach,
I wonder how much I can truly take?
I doubt it is much more then this,
I am giving up this fight,
I can't make your heart like mine,
No matter how hard I try,
There will be no encore.    

-Jamie F. Nugent

It is 10 am,
My curtains are drawn,
Blinds shut,
All light shut out.
We fell apart,
I am falling apart,
But everything will,
Given time,
Even the Mona Lisa
Is falling apart
Her smile, like mine
Is slowly fading now
But is anything truly beautiful
If it lasts forever?

- Jamie F. Nugent

She flung her cigarette
Into the fireplace,
Then tried to heat her hands,
It was a miserable fire ablaze.

The turf was barely dry,
It floundered about the fireplace,
But it was the only turf left, and
She'd not dare turn on the oil heating.

She sat sadly in the sitting room,
The ceiling was collapsing and
The walls were caving in,
At least
The wallpaper is still nice,
thought she.

She remembered when she had bought it -
The sunflower pattern wallpaper sheets
Brightened up the room and all in it.

And now,
That it was just her,
Why did
the house
feel so
small?


-Jamie F. Nugent

It is a place where
Few seldom return from,
And even when they do,
You would not know
Them anymore.

There the girls spend their
Free afternoons in cafés,
Having their complex coffees
Poured into purple mugs, Then they
Melt into couches and conversation.

Pouring themselves into themselves,
Contemplating carnival rides
Upon Salt Hill and
Skinny dipping in Galway Bay,
When nights were soft with cool and chill.

With their blue eyes and black hair,
It is all too easy to lose your heart there.


-Jamie F. Nugent

Famous in War,
Famous in Bloodshed,
Famous in Heartbreak.

Stitch my scars,
Feel my heart sink,
Watch me fall and
Drown in memories.

How do you remember me?
Is it how I remember you?
The way the room lit up,
When you entered it.

Bright as a summer's day,
Bright as a winter's city night,
Christmas lights,
Covered in snow.

Never lacking in lustier,
Inseparable frozen hands,
Not wanting to let go,
Never wanting to give in.

That burn I get,
In the back of my throat,
From licking your flame.

I still see you the same way,
But in different places,
The bachelorette who
Drives past in her car,
In my opposite direction.

For a short moment in those
Shy girls, who glance out at life,
Through the same big,
Thick-rimmed glasses.

In the songs we once song
To one another,
All seeming like
A lifetime ago.

I hope that these days,
You are overjoyed,
Never again
To be so destroyed.

Destroyed by War,
Destroyed by Bloodshed,
Destroyed by Heartbreak.

- Jamie F. Nugent

He takes and he takes,
He will never ask, for fear it might stop him,
He will never be thankful,
He will never utter the word 'Please'.

He will only just act coy and tease,
He thinks it is funny when you are upset,
He is a walking double standard,
He is impossible to reason with,
He is in one ear and out the other.

He has given up on ageing long ago,
He was finished growing up years ago.
He is Peter Pan without the charm,
He is Peter's Pain and Peter's harm.

- Jamie F. Nugent

Worshipping and demonized,
Force fed and forbidden,
Since stone age,
Interwoven irreversibly,
Hands in air, like
Trying to stab the night's sky.

You dance like snakes would,
You maintain an ironic hipster pose
For everyone, at all times,
Standing, bright in this
Dingy old house.

Blowing air kisses and out
Sliver smoke rings, all night long,
You are the gum snapping stranger,
Pacing up and down the hall,
Wearing a tight t-shirt
With daises,
And tighter jeans.

Calling for your taxi
In the near morning,
From the door, in freezing rain
You somersault from place to
New and exciting place,
Give to you to drink mandrogora,
Until you are muddied and slow,
Like a double-decker bus.

Hypnotic and hallucinogenic,
Unsure if this is legal,
As if you really care,
Thinking you are so very
******* like some
Witchdoctor or Voodoo Priest,
This was not what you expected,
The journey through the living room walls.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Past-Midnight, post-agrument, pre-dawn,
You make a sudden entrance in this somber room,
Without words or warning,
Your head is buried deep in my shoulder;
You still remain speechless,
But your tears speak volumes,
You wear those teardrops on your cheek
Like the soft silk res dress you wore whilst
Taking my arm and leading me to a rock n' roll dance-floor,
Sway, Sway, Sway in this blaring ballroom,
Sway, Sway, Sway in my arms as you shake, break, weep,
But it will be better in the morning,
When the sun is up,
When your head is clear,
When your mind is right.
Disregard the gloom of last night,
And return back,
In dawn's early bright light.

-Jamie F. Nugent

We died of old age at age seventeen,
With a thousand years worth of dust in our eyes,
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

Submerged in the deep in our submarine,
Without fear of a wreck or a capsize,
We died of old age at age seventeen.

You look the same as when we met by the marine,
You kept your fear of spiders and butterflies,
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

You have always cut straight to the point like a guillotine,
You would indulge in love songs as I tried to harmonise,
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

Stretch out those arms and let me crawl between,
And improvise a half-dozen lullabies that will paralyze.
We died of old age at age seventeen.
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I  am not sure if you are Good or Bad,
I am not sure if I want to find out,
I know your name,your style, your taste,
But, I don't know what makes you tick,
Makes you smile,
Makes you cry.

There is a story here, one I am not being told
Waiting on you to unwithhold,
This vague cold uncertainty
Of my not knowing what you want,
Tell me what you need, and all
Your ***** little secrets and all
Your little ***** desires,
Addictions, addictions.

I stand lost, astray in your winter gaze,
Like nostalgia for years and years past,
If your looks could ****,
Your words would do much worse,
Give me your best,
Your worst,
Along with
Everything else,
And nothing more,
Or nothing less.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Dancing on the drink stained tables
Because there's no more room
Out on the crowded flimsy floor,
That is uneven and *****,
Drinks are spilled, then replaced
And smoke lingers in the air,
But what does it matter anyway?
There's music filling the old room,
Music that's frightening to the old,
But still too much for the young.
In here,there is no snowstorm,
In here, God is alive and it's 1955.
The fiddles don't sing, they howl.
The storytellers don't speak, they rave.
A hiding place to wish away anything.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I Cannot Comprehend
You feeling the bitter
Need to Mess with my head
With little expressions
Like 'I Miss You',
Maybe you should
Pled Guilty instead,
Darling it comes as
No surprise, that I
Despise these lies that you
Tell yourself and your friend,
To try and make the
Means justify the End,
It was not that you
Went and came, it's just
This Self Righteous mind-game
That you play,
So take your Uncontrollable aim
For William Tell,
Bow in hand,
Final Fare Thy Well, as you
You place the apple
On my head and try to
Rid of Mistakes you Made,
But Nothing will taste Sweeter
And Nothing will look Neater,
Just a mountain of the
Finest Rotten Fruits
Pulled from ****** stalk
And Lifeless Root,
This Skinny Love was just a
Labour of Lust,
That was sooner than later
Bound to Lurch, Burst and Bust,
This Faltering Ripple of Neglect,
If our ship was once afloat,
It is now most certainly Wracked.

- Jamie F. Nugent

Our anxious eyes fade,blue and calm
As I attentively close the door in our wake
You glow in darkness,
Smouldering inferno,
Eternal vertigo,
Holding a kiss until the cramping muscles
In our lips overpower and subdue us both,
Bite my heart,
Gnaw on my soul,
As I Shakespeareanly
Nail down your hands and
Pin your wrists,
Triumphant Crucifixion,
Your instant flushing cheeks,
Blushing with blood,
Brooding with ardour,
Warmth, warmth, warmth.

Jamie F. Nugent

When this Bonnie Parker
And Clyde Chestnut Barrow romance
Had its shootouts,
We'd run for cover,
I was the gunman and
You, the getaway driver.

We'd drive until the sun had set
(If the gas haven't run out first)

The next day,
The next town,
A different time,
A different place,

My same sweet Bonnie.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I tried to work out the back of your mind,
Through a microscope eyepiece,
But just ended up gazing through a kaleidoscope,
I wanted to feel your skeletal notches, &
I wanted the scent of your perfume in my lungs, &
To look into your eyes;
Dilating in a summer sun.

-Jamie F. Nugent

She boarded the train,
Slowly sitting down in
The seat to my front left.

It was late and
The carriage was bare,
With sleepy passengers
On the night-train,
The near-naked-train.

A few quick glimpses -
Scared she'd see -
I went to retrieve my bag
The other end of the carrige,
On my way down the narrow isle,
More so as to pass her,
Then get my luggage.

I caught her side-profile,
Perfect as a silhouette
Inside a heart-shaped locket.

Her chestnut hair fell down to
Her chest but there it stopped
To smell of hazelnut chocolate.

The beginning of a crack in
Her spectacle lenses and
How her teeth slight showed,
Even her flaws were perfection.

-Jamie F. Nugent

These boots,
Black and dusty,
Cracked leather, like
The face that smokes
Forty cigarettes a day.
A ripped soul,
From a previous life.
Looks, that cut me,
Under my ankle;
But I will wear you
Anyway, and
I will let you
Wear me out,
Regardless

Jamie F. Nugent

December Darling,
I didn't feel so could then,
Love, when I had you.

-Jamie F. Nugent