and we went for coffee
at the cafe round the corner
where the guy
who served us looked like
a wannabe rock star,
where the seats were cold,
a buttermilk colour.
I remember your lips
were strawberry red -
I wore a liquorice jet-black jacket
that was too small for me.
Then somehow
like a shirt in the wash
the conversation changed
to the other side of things,
what we both had written
over the days of dying summer.
'Plenty, you?' is what you said
sipping from the white mug.
'Not much, no surprise' my riposte,
glasses harassed
by caffeine-full clouds as I drank.
Then the fog cleared,
I could see again
sinking into your seawater eyes
and I muttered how I'd scrawl down
something about you
sometime.
This isn't it.
Here’s to another day.

I stand in an utterly changed world
For better or worse I do not know.
In the distance the air booms
Lightning splits the sky asunder.
Snare cracks and bass vibrations reverberate
Back to where I stand on the shore.
The screaming howls have subsided
As a monstrosity drifts away unnoticed.
I am the Lone Victim.
Lone survivor.
The torrents have cut through me like a razor.
Bleeding, broken I scream inside my skull
Too afraid to voice my sorrows.
Pains.
Fears.
Hatred.
Or love.
A storm capable of crushing civilization itself
Has just past me by.
Yet I live.
I am the Lone Watcher as it fades
Into the dark night.

I know naught of what the future holds
     but I can sleep easier in the peaceful aftermath
Under a clear starry sky

Golden pulse grew on the shore,
Ferns along the hill,
And the red cliff roses bore
Bees to drink their fill;

Bees that from the meadows bring
Wine of melilot,
Honey-sups on golden wing
To the garden grot.

But to me, neglected flower,
Phaon will not see,
Passion brings no crowning hour,
Honey nor the bee.

Drag me home by my stretching wrists
To my long lost severed sister
My soul, for I am the unsuccessful lover.
Contorting and thrashing
I ignite underneath you
Smothered in flames I rise,
Spitting out ash.
They whisper, “don’t get too close.”
I laugh.

The quiet impulse to exist
Contains my wild thoughts.
A jar full of butterflies
And you shake them all up.
They’ll turn on the hose
And each take a turn.
I am the daughter of dry lust,
Allow me to burn.

The pain rooted and stretched,
reaching for infinity as its branches spread.
The pain blinded my heat and soul,
expanding beyond the depth of my mind.
I gently shaped the fruits of the despair into words,
hanging them from my chest as wind chimes,
and spent my days among the comforting chiming.
The pain is now trapped behind a treacherous wall,
Shielding all the despair and all the precious fruits from my mind.
Safety fills the air and the pain no longer plagues me.
The rancid stench of protected silence spreads,
the wondrous wind chimes cease their music,
and I am left without a Muse.

It creeps into my room again,
filling me with fear.
I wish it would just go away
and let me be happy here.
The air inside turns icy cold,
sends shivers down my spine.
It comes in every morning,
All my darkest fears combined.
I reach out a hand to touch it
Just to check it's real.
It tries to smile and I try too
But all my happiness it steals.
It copies every move I make
Mocking me with glee.
I step back and I realise
The thing I'm staring at is me.

Hope grasped him in hot arms,
and whispered,
 
 
Either, I’ll fly away in fits of laughter,
 
Or I’ll leave you here,
Bloodied, on the floor.
 
He cried back,
 
it didn’t matter anyhow,
 
The seconds are infinite
Until you do.

And I lay here looking at the sky,
Counting all the leaves that are prepared to die.
Yet they all stay up attached to their tree,
Helping it live on as they die from the disease,
Called Winter.

It's called Winter,
Freezes over the warmth.
It's called Winter,
Pauses back and forth.

And now you know you're trapped,
For nature's mid year nap.
Don't you love the taste of the sap,
As you fall down to your knees.

Until then I lay here.
Until then I will lie.
Waiting for the boss to come down,
And tells me that now is the time to die.

The birds are flying over head,
They make Vs in the sky.
Why not make tissues birds,
For all the ones who cry?

I wait here laying down,
Eyes upon the sky.
Waiting for that lucky bird,
To fall from reaching too high.

Or maybe he'll be alright,
Maybe he'll be just fine.
And just **** on me,
I pray that I am such a lucky guy.

Maybe the Winter will let me be,
Until then I look toward the sky.

Now it's getting dark,
Don't have a clue why,
But I see the bright lights over head,
Now I'm ready to die.