It burns when I ***
I guess you wanted to give me something
to remember you by.

It burns when I ***.
I've only ever been with you
so thanks for the gift
what you left before you left.

While I'm ******* shards of glass
I wonder who you got it from
you cheating *****!

The oak tree:
not interested
    in cherry blossoms.

I want a poet
between my thighs,
wicked tongue wrapped
in verse,
drive and provoke,
serenade
this dancing knot
of prose hidden here,
a hungry mound
saturated beneath a soft
cocoon of sweltering flesh,
suspended in expectation
inspired to spill forth
steaming compositions
sticky on his epic lips,
grinning.

And he’ll rise then
breathing a new stanza
onto my fragrant neck
“Sandalwood,” he’ll whisper
as he fills me with a new
refrain
emphatically taunts
my music
to sing down onto
his tightened fuse,
running rivulets spiraling
along his determined thighs,
crying out into his
listening ear,
a requiem so potent it
drips off the page
and becomes some reality.

I lie awake in bed so still
Helpless i'm forced to take that pill
I cannot move, my fight is gone
I just listen to my favourite song.

My lips are chapped, cracked and dry
As my hair falls out i say goodbye
To those i love and who love me
Forever in my memory

But time goes on and they'll forget
The way i moved and the scent of my breath
So bury me in my favourite clothes,
My lady bird shoes and big clown nose

Then when Mama looks at me in my box
She remembers me saying
"I'll be an astronaut"

She starts to cry, as she only sees
The innocence that washed over me
So Papa takes her by the hand
And as she sobs she gives the command

My box goes down but i sore high
Me and my spaceship
Drift into the sky

ǝsınbsıp-ɟןǝs uʍo ʎɯ ʇsoן ı uǝɥʍ
ʎןɟ oʇ uɹɐǝן ı pıp ʎןʞɔınb puɐ
ʇǝǝɟ ʎɯ ʇobɹoɟ ı 'ʇɥbıu buıǝq
ʇǝǝɹʇs ʎʇdɯǝ uɐ uo ǝuoןɐ pǝɔuɐp ı

ɹǝʇʇǝq sıɥʇ ǝʞɐɯ oʇ ǝɹısǝp ɐ ǝɯɐɔ
sɹǝʇʇǝן puɐ sǝʞoɹʇs ǝɥʇ ɟo ןןɐ ɥbnoɹɥʇ
ɯɹoɟ oʇ uıbǝq ןnos ʎɯ ʍɐs ı puɐ
pǝɯɹoʇs sʇǝןǝʇɐןd ǝɥʇ ǝɔuǝןıs ןnɟʇɥbnoɥʇ uı

pɐǝʇsuı ʎןɟ sʍoquıɐɹ ʍɐs ı ʇnq
pǝɹ pǝןq pooןq ǝɥʇ ɥbnoɹɥʇ puɐ ssoɹɔɐ
ǝbɐɔ ǝɥʇ ɯoɹɟ ɟןǝsʎɯ pǝsɐǝןǝɹ puɐ
ǝbɐd ǝɥʇ uo ʇno ʇɹɐǝɥ ʎɯ ʇnd ı

ǝɔɐןd ǝןzznd sʇı uı ʇı ʞɔnʇs puɐ
ǝɔɐɟ sʇı uo ʇı pǝddıןɟ ı uǝɥʇ
uʍoɹɔ oʇ ǝoʇ 'ןǝǝɥ oʇ pɐǝɥ
uʍop ǝpısdn ɯǝod ɐ ǝʇoɹʍ ı

the bruises of yesterday
stain her face
like smeared make-up

broken lips and blackened eyes
she doesn't cry
she just wants to die

she sleeps under cover of darkness
he steals her soul
and her will to live

she becomes numb
to the pain within
the pain between her thighs

there is no life
behind those eyes
a hallow shell
broken and alone

she does not scream
she does not cry
she does not fight
she just wants to die

porcelain skin
stained with blood
lifeless and limp
beneath satin sheets

Love as
an anagram
starts the
word-

Evolution.