i’m inspired
be my muse
while we listen to muse

my eyes sting with tears of
love, kissing my cheeks and embracing
my face in a cover of water

the tears streak down my face, dripping
off of my jawline and falling onto the
peanut floor, flaking off into oblivion

the floor leads to the door, wide open as
the possibility of returning to him
completes itself, and goes out with him

and as i walk along the brick road,
i look back and He’s there.
catching up beside me, He asked me
‘why do you abandon hope, and your
love.’ i say that he will never feel the same
and i’ve come to accept it.

He went on to say, ‘blessed are those
who are pure in heart - and you, my child
gave him the purest form of love you could
the same agape that I give you’

my soul rejoiced for His words, and
i’m reminded of how he suffered so I
may feel for anyone without sin

i love god more then him, but i
show them the same type of love.
one reciprocated in action, the other didn’t.

you really make me swoon for you
weak in the knees for the idea
that you would choose to be mine

i walk along the backcountry road
watching the occasional land rover go by
and i wonder: where did it go wrong?
what mistake in navigating my way home
did i end up down this path, away from
the path i could see the end to

you are my lighthouse
guiding me home with your beam
i scurry towards its luminance like a mouse
and run my finger down your body, down your seam

now, he said he wanted another
said ‘sorry’ like it was a plaster
meant to coverup the hole in my heart
the blood overruns my chambers
my valves are clogged up
my ducts remain open and constantly run
warm water down my face

what did i expect?
for him to not like me, sure,
but nothing could prepare me for the
emptiness of the void of nothingness

please forgive me and lead me
to the path to your door
let me see your face and see the light
and demonstrate to me your might
vanquish what is sore
within me, beholding ye

i saw him, my love, kissing him, my hate
then i woke up, filled with vile
and anger of the idea that
my greatest love goes to my greatest hate
instead of me

May God overthrow myself - flipping over
tables in the den of sin which is my heart.

Let His word radiate in my heart, soul and might

Let He who is immovable
move my spirit
from arid land to meadows of clover

Let my Lover encompass my entire being
so I serve Him and
His people

Let my Father guide me and instruct me,
to raise me like a babbling child

could go either way
like unbiased scales of justice or
a two pence piece

could change my life
or it could just keep it in its current form

may the mould of my life break
and in its shards reforge into something more

i don’t know what i did wrong
but knowing me, it’s bound to be something
big, something that gives you a right to
cut me off

do you hate me for what i did?
that nameless, insignificant crime of such
significance

i still imagine what my life would be like
if you were still my friend
but now im burning in purgatory
the coolness biting me

you say that you’ll never be gay
or associate with anything queer
but i tell you
the atoms you’re surrounded by are gay
that sun you are feeling is queer
being gay is in the worlds nature
encrusted like diamonds on a coronet

god forgive me for
falling into temptations not of the devil
but of myself, my own musing:
forgive me for allowing myself to fall for him
forgive me for not trusting you

love is like a blind man
trusting his fate on others
leaning on their shoulder to guide him

trusting that they won’t abandon him
or lead him into turmoil

and i say to him:
have you no shame, no hope
for what you will become?
day by day, you demean yourself
sure, you speak of wisdom and religion,
but you are vain and ignorant.

don’t you know a church window
is supposed to let the sun in?
its colours work together thus,
creating a collage of glory incarnate
where you, mockingly, say that
you are the window itself?

fool, turn around and see so
you know nothing, you are nothing
and continue down this path? you’ll return
to nothingness, a void, somewhere between
something and something else

and i won’t ever
step feet in copenhagen
again, never
shall my feet walk on
those cobble roads

i see your eyes in its water,
i see your hands in its branches
i feel your spirit in my heart
and all i can do is cry in

a vain attempt to get it out
to purge myself from the pain
that’s in the form of an angel

i know this isn’t healthy, so let
it be
known that i
shan’t,
can’t stop looking at your photo

into your       eyes

feeling a sense of regretfulness

feeling like a sailor lost at sea

i’m a              mess

      but im your mess
     unless                   you
     don’t                    want
this mess to be yours.

august approaches, and i’m
                     still hung up
about your stupidly pretty face

there we sat on the sports hall floor
talking about everything and nothing.
silently stoking the flames of
my heart, with every glance and side eye,
like throwing a bone to a hungry dog

i know im not what you wanted,
and for that, im sorry.
but can’t you get it, i need you
more then i ever thought i would

need you, i need you
i need you to understand that
you can’t just run away from me,
and expect me to move on.

you may put up your walls,
and i don’t blame you,
but have you considered what the shadow
would do to me?

starve me out of your light,
burn me with its darkness.
cut me with your sword -
it’s better then those words.

and will you still
spit on the ground i walk on
when i’m the only one instep with you?

when nobody is by your side,
due to your misdeeds and your past,
will you wonder why am i still there?

if i can see your malpractice,
ponder this,
why do i need to defend you?

that passion for gods house
which consumes me
scorches me like a walk-in freezer
cools me like a burning effigy

my passion for where his spirit lies
swallows me whole,
as if it is a whale and i am jonah

i will fight for his spirit’s sanctuary
by any means, valuing my life
over it

i will fight for who it lies in,
and who he is

‘i love young love’
i say to myself, only sixteen
years of age, the words like a loose glove
on myself, as my eyes water and i lean

on a cobblestone wall, each crack and dent
showing not what has happened,
but what will happen, my heart lent
freely to him, broken and saddened

i’ll probably get over him, i say,
echoing his words in my head
on the cobble floor where i lay,
blood trickling out the thread

love is alive and well
but it plays dead for me
what a cruel rosebush to sell
when an end to the tunnel i can’t see

how could this be? i hear you cry
and let me answer that for you.
love doesn’t care whether you cheat or lie,
it cares if your mirror doesn’t shatter into

a million pieces. a shattered icon of
human despair, and society as a whole
delicate, fragile even. but it cuts you off
like a blade of his brilliant earthy iris lulls

your mind is everywhere
but have you ever felt
the simple joy of being content?
how about the wretched sadness
that inhabits your whole being?

i tell you, you haven’t lived until
life gives you pain, torture, anguish-
shaking the very foundations,
and you overcome it.

you may try to flee to the bottleneck,
or the billowing smokestacks.
let me warn you plainly: you won’t
find a place to hide anywhere in the world

he cheats on me
he’s not good news
not my first choice
not a choice at all

he tells me about it
with sticky words and **** explanations

is it still cheating if i never asked him out?
or is it just nothing

fooled twice now heaving
won’t stop him leaving

can’t think straight
like if anything he does is

i miss him
like a frayed cardigan
and i miss how he would elaborate
like the bitter wind biting between my fingers
i miss his scent, nostalgic like
an old bookstore or starbucks frappuccino
his eyes like an art gallery
where we went during our lunch break

i miss being ignorant to him
him just being a friend, commenting on
men we found fit while walking.
my type was him, his type was mine
and yet only one of us liked the other

i miss sitting next to him
in maths class, mcdonald’s, the bus
canterbury or the coast
i miss him
and i can’t get over him

but i have to pretend it’s fine because
‘that’s just how life works sometimes’
i reject the premise, i want to cling
onto the idea of him like a lifebuoy