Enclose around me and imprint your body into mine,
we morph into strong glass.
I cut off my wings and gave them to you a long time ago.
You always wrap me in them.
I don't need to fly anymore. I nest.

Worn down nails,
rough and ridged.
Islands of colour float
in a pool of unwanted expectation.

Small pieces of skin stand proud.
Trail down my frame,
with your cardboard ogre hands.
Black prickles tickle your material,
poking out from minuscule crevices
you wanted to believe did not exist.

I am not preparing myself for your pleasure.
Your gaze through tinted roses,
giving you a wanted expectation.
Well, i'll be an exception.

Illuminated by incandescent brilliance
she is feeling celestial,
Radiated by the sparkler
held in the only gloved hand.
The curvature of blonde hair
folds around her face,
as you smile graciously.
Cast in shadows but never forgotten,
a penny in a wishing well.

You stand tall, a benign being.
He told her you are golden.
Looking down upon her,
in promise of prospect
as she wavers and wanders
loping around
like a small pixie,
spreading dust through
the swelling Garden.
This night, full of wonder,
enchantment, entrancement.
Mystical.

An alchemist appears to her.
She does not blink.

You gazed at bursts of light,
those thunders of giants
imprinting the smoke infested sky,
as you imprint her mind
with the stories you tell
and your accounts of life.
They cannot be retold.
Descending
Drawing in.
Now, vacuum packed
you are shrink wrapped,
enclosed with no air.

Mounds of cement run down your mouth.

That night you were strong
and you watched her with glee.
But now she’s bigger and bolder
and you’re weaker, older.
When her sparkler fades
The supernova stage,
A final moment of absolute glory
But will not linger,
Or last.

Now your eyes are melancholy,
Distant,
Enigmatic.
Wandering phantom orbs.

Her sparkler grows dim.

A white whiskered cat purrs along the barrier,
hissing at cliffs when its angry back arches.
Frothing milk forms,
lapped up by coarse tongues.

There are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on the earth,
and that scares me.
I want to climb inside a shell,
and hear the tranquil surf behind my eyes,
Curled up like a foetus, cradled and secure.

I wish I could imprint scales into my skin
and dive to the bottom of the swelling sea,
submerged into an untouched kingdom.
Although I wonder,
if it’s lonely down there.

Moisture hits my restless tongue,
parched by salted air.
Grains make unwanted homes between toes.
The flaming sphere scorches faces.
Once-invisible freckles rise,
like air-trapped bubbles rising to the surface.

Washed up cuttlebone.
Silk brushed carcass,
passed its shell life,
pristine, untouched,
gleaming in its pearly form.
Static and proud,
it sleeps on the bed of faithful sand,
a reminder of vivacity.

A lion’s face caresses the surface,
one fatal yawn
and it’s extinguished by dusk.

The beautiful thing about the ocean,
is the way it always returns to kiss the sand.

Lucid, luminous and lingering,
A crystal Polythene bag prances
Through the unborn air.
It contorts and convulses;
A perpetual struggle.
The Earth's Wild breath plucks
The entity away from its playful frolic
In a daring
******.
Altering the direction of odd exertion.
Entwining leaves round itself,
In a last hope of disguise.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
Impenetrable hands  
Catch
The gliding bag,
Propelling into the abyss.

Potent forces drag it further still,
Squirming like a forgotten child
Pleading
Yearning, to gain control.                                                                                                                                                                    
Demanding gales ******,
Choking the plastic vessel.
It gasps for air.
A fish awaiting its final breath.
    
Sailing the tumultuous breeze
Dismembered and
Swamped in the swarm,
Its handles now shattered.
A synthetic snow shower falls.

The bag is wrenched
Through the unforgiving sky,
Tumbling, abandoned.
It twists, spiralling,
Swamped in the ritual,
This new course of life.
The consumer controls,
Cash flashing in every corner,
Every crevice, no deviation.

It tears the gorge of the atmosphere
Knows nothing else,
A lone being,
Dragged around
Down to the dust of Earth.
Powerless in a turbulent tempest
The torment of growth.

This polythene material,
Diverged from being branded,
Swirling,
Becomes close,
With every violent fluctuation.
There is nothing inside this bag anymore;
Contents cannot aid its weakness.

When I was five years old,
I cut all my eyelashes off
In hope to gain more wishes.
Each member a companion to my eyes,
Longing to soar...
But fell to the ground.

Delicate ogres kiss shimmering necks.
One by one they take their turn to dip into the lake of lust.
Brothers bound by their need to feed -
Inhale dark vapors you beasts,
and strangle your throat.
The opposing advertisement differs: For your throats sake smoke.

They gorge on fruitful delights
and devilishly entwine fingers
in an attempt to ensnare innocence back to their lair.
Run rabbit. Run.

The streets enclose around them, and she knows no escape.
Yet these webs are carved into their backs.
They're taking this sacrificial lamb.
To pull the tender meat apart and leave nothing but a mind impinged with woe.

Your sun bleached lips
carved into by rays and cigarette trails.
The smoke haunts the dark air,
and lingers to remind us of those few seconds that just went by.
I look up at your face,
beautiful in the sense that you are living.
We share the same air and lie on the same blades of grass.

Did her touch feel as tender as mine upon your silken neck?
And did her lips feel real?
Were the curves of her body like serene waves you wanted forever wade in?
I like to think you didn't smile.
Even if she excited you.
Did her tight lips make you sick?
Her hair doesn't hide her like mine does.
When her current touches your skin it burns and sears,
like a cigarette pushed into flesh.

I need these headphones snug in my ears
to stop the air slipping its way in and teasing.
You're going to look a fool.

Need the cooling beats that aren't really beats because they're so discreet.
They make everything look like the film, reeling off a separate version of my life.
Everything seen is witnessed through a tainted lens.
Yellow and serene. A Luc-Godard scene.

You're sitting there and I get kind of scared.
Not as scared as I thought, but that is because I didn't think.
This glass is how we work each other out.
We are both translucent in tiny fragments
In the process of piecing us together.
We are not all green bottle and crystal shard.
We merge together, creating a gold collage.

In the darkness she comes to melt,
surge into cool shadows
and be at one with them.

But they cannot allow her to dissolve into the abyss,
they grab and clench their angry fists
at how beautiful she longed to be
and was,
but did not know.

She faulters in her black waves of mutilation
cutting strands of hair that cross her path.

the floor becomes her death bed,
awaiting to crumble and swallow her into the milky world of her iris.
They're coming for you. Her.

Can't control the grotesque feel of their lips upon her shoulder,
they smoulder
and smother.

Breathing underwater fills your lungs and yet you swallow as hard as you can.
No water can absorb as you drift. Catabasis.
A vacant body amidst an empty mouth,
teeth fallen in potent dreams.