I stand above my bed
And examine the damage.
Blankets this way and that
Pillows all over
Sheets tangled up around themselves.
Proof of something that
Only hours ago
Left this place empty.
I take in the rubble
And breathe deeply.
I lower myself down to those
Tangled sheets
And backwards bedspreads
And fill my lungs with you.
I pull them up around me
And close my eyes
And wish for this place to be
The same kind of battleground
Again tomorrow.

A million people
marched on Whitehall
every footfall
was a trumpet blast
every placard
bore an epic poem
every eye
flashed righteous lightning
and it made
absolutely no difference
at all.

Hunkered down
against tides and waves
they allow themselves
a certain satisfaction

Cold currents surge past,
bringing them all they need
shifting them not one jot

But in those currents
their own young course and swirl
adrift, alive,
gauntlet-running,
glorious

And the barnacles wonder
whether they may, perhaps,
be missing something.

I'll *******,
If you want.
Cause I want it
Just as bad as you do.
But I also want to hear the rustle of the sheets
When you turn over in the middle of the night.
I want to feel your hot breath on my neck.
I want the stubble on your chin to graze my cheek
As you kiss me gently on the forehead.
And when I whisper "goodnight," you don't have to reply.
Just nudge me with your knee
Or poke me with your elbow.

you deserve a novel,
but these words suffice:
you thief.

She bit down 
drawing blood from tensened shoulder,
rocking gently
as I fought to hold her.
Writhing flesh 
on flesh and bone,
cussing my name 
in empassioned tone.
Nails tearing 
sweat stained skin,
sinking down 
drinking me in.
Head thrown back
eyes wide shut,
slapping my thighs
with reddened ****.
Tongues flaying flesh 
from up turned necks,
teeth spittle stained
with whitened flecks.
Fingers tangled
pulling hair,
Beyond the point
of sweet despair.
Hips gyrating
screaming mouth,
as once again
the north meet south.
Passion spent
and shared and tasted,
nothing wanted
nothing wasted.

Darkness spilt in here today,
bled more like it.
Seeped between cracks in the linoleum
and slowly climbed the wall.

Soon it covered the fluorescents,
started to drip,
formed a puddle on my arm
didn't burn like I expected.

Rather,it soothed
and gently reassured;
told me how light is conditional
but darkness is lasting.

Darkness told me why fireflies prefer the light:
It absorbs them.
Leaves them suspended,
they're not fireflies anymore.
Just light.
Empty space, hanging there.

At dusk they return,
burdened by selfhood,
remembering what NOTHING felt like:
anatomy betrays them too soon.

Darkness has to go now,
back through the linoleum.
It tells me that people like me,
lingerers,
are never far from the darkness,
you just have to see through
All these **** lights.