i am working very hard at being noticed.
long streaks of eyeliner keep my paper white face from slipping into 21 year old patterns
that i often see on my walks
skinny jeans give my body permanence
new, high-heeled sneakers
walk me back to flesh and bone:
the stains on my lips remind me to exist.

i am falling behind
blending in
fading away
from over-exposure
i must find new ways
to darken my frame
define my lines
make me easier to see
if you look at me
then i exist

i exist

i exist

i exist

I spoke in vain
To a rather coy daffodil
Commenting such,
"Excuse me for saying,"
    "But you look lovely today."
And I, as if expecting response,
     Allowed silence;
(Reciprocated by the daffodil)
"Yes," I said, "Save your words."

i want to be touched by somebody
with burgundy blood on his hands;
red handed
raw palmed
legs strangled in maroon bedsheets.

a murderers kiss must be a rush,
blood exploding from every pore in my
bled out skin,
wounds opening willingly for his searching
hands to make
a sort of house out of my bones.
creating a home for something
wild
who has only ever met closed doors
and distant, fearful faces.
i'd prove i wasn't scared of
the dark eyes,
and hungry lips,

knowing at any moment he could push the
cool lips of a golden .45 caliber revolver
and splatter my ****** through the
wooden bedpost and the
flaking, collapsing drywall.

i've followed thrills ever since i was
in third grade,
convincing a boy to take off his clothes
and show me what "men" are made of
and sneaking behind my mothers
injured back
stealing things i wasn't supposed to know about.
i liked putting myself through the danger,
unknown
it rushed up my legs and
rendered me breathless and craving more.  

i've always wanted to hold
something shaking
and cold
and let them tell me stories
out of their biting teeth
of when when it all started:
they were small and rode their bicycle
so fast they fell and skinned their
soft pink cheeks on the black cement
and went crying to their mother with blood dripping
down
a mixture of tar and red.

i'll tell them there's some place in hell
in the beating, drumming heart of the earth
warm darkness compacted,
where you can buy cigarettes for
50 cents a pack,
and whiskeys in water bottles and skin is naked
guns are loaded to shoot down the moon
and eat it with crunching, crumbly golden crackers.
where there is no sleep
only midnight writing furiously on the stark pages
of a shredded journal
dawn walks down the lively sidewalks where
other sleepless figures of orange peel flavored darkness
and coffee bean stained teeth dance and laugh and touch
in the darkest parts of the invisible morning
sweat intermixed unrecognizably with tears
and people hold their belongings in
the drooping bags under their bright eyes,
where screams of pleasure echo in every
cavern and creaking limb you touch
to the atmosphere
and people make love easier
than they
destroy necks.

i'll whisper
"when you're rotting underground
with your teeth in a
waxen, strained smile with lovers flesh embedded
in your own homely skull,
and your fingers are feasts for writhing worms,

and i'm dancing chaotically as ever in the raging wind,
a desert flower reduced to
bright-eyed dust
thrown lightly into the sinking seeds of a garden
with flowers growing out of my decomposing
echo of a body
like an
articulate oil painting decorating the earth to remind them
of my eternity,
i'll sink all the way through the soil
and follow the heartbeats

i'll meet you there."

I kept your last
birthday card to me;
tucked it between
books on my shelf,

not knowing then
it would be the last;
your small simple script
and name, artwork done,

received with all the rest
that day, last year.
I have taken it out
a few times now,

read the script over
and over, as if maybe,
more words
might appear,

than those before.
I hold it in my hands
and imagine where
your fingers touched,

where your pen
scribed the words,
and for that frozen moment
capture part of you again,

that feel, that ghostly smell,
thinking maybe
my fingers are, where
your fingers were,

your DNA mixing with mine,
mixing together
like good scotch, not wine.
I shall keep

your birthday card to me,
keep it safe, re-read
now and then,
pretend each year

it came from you,
anew, fresh written,
your fine small hand;
waiting each birthday

for it to land,
the birthday card
from my eldest son
(now dead), and when

my birthday comes around
once more, I shall take
the card out and read
with all the rest that came,

keeping you you always
in my heart and head,
with your small scribed,
loving name.

Doubted innocence as I grow old
molded  thinking by what I was told
And that blueprint of a normal life
I was sold

Forced advices
Pointing out my vices
You better shut up and not make a fool out of yourself
How could you be such a mess
if only u lost a bit of weight
if only your teeth were a bit whiter and a bit straight
if only your skin was a bit darker shade
if only you could find a good looking mate
if only you could get a better grade
if only you had a better fate

Oh the efforts put to change others lives
The urge to constantly point out what's wrong and what's right  
The way we put up a fight
that's not ours  

would you just let it go
Cause you seem tired
I pitty you
you seem tired
Cause all your efforts are going to waste
and no matter what I won't change
atleast not from you
maybe by someone I look up to
but not you

These society gimmicks do not seem to get to me
They annoy me
but I'm still me
blunt happy old me

Lizbeth was waiting for me
by the hedge
under the water tower
been waiting for you

she said
been helping
sawing logs
I said

where we going?
she asked
walk up the Downs?
I said

she shrugged
her shoulders
I suppose so
she said moodily

where else?
I said
what about
that empty cottage

down the lane
she said
that would be
less far to go

and more likely
likely for what?
I said
you know

she said
might be a place
an empty shed or such
I looked at her hair

drawn into a pony tail
her eyes fixed on me    
we'll have to walk then
I said

you can leave your bike
by our shed
ok
she said

and so we walked back
to the cottage
and left her bike
by the shed wall

and walked down the lane
at a steady pace
don't you find
all this countryside

boring?
she said
no shops
no cinema

no place to go
it's ok
I said
I don't get bored

I go for walks
collect bird's eggs
look for animal skeletons
in the woods

fossils in the chalk walls
stop
she said
that's so dull

bad enough
you showed me
all that stuff
that time

in your bedroom
I smiled
you forgot to mention
my Spitfire hanging

from the ceiling
of course
she said
just what

I always wanted
to see
she looked
at the small stream

by the path
where you walked
in your bedroom
and all you

could think about
was showing me
your bones and fossils
and I wanted

to do things
she said
I found a wren's nest
up there

earlier this year
I said
pointing to an area
on her right

didn't disturb it though
waited until
the chicks had hatched
and flown away

before I collected
the eggshell remains
she didn't look impressed
she looked at the sky

where rooks flew
over head
my cousin collects
bird's eggs

she said
he gets them
as soon as he can
and blows out

the gunk inside
through a small hole
so yuk
she said

she took my hand
in hers as we turned
along the path
leading to

the empty cottage
stuck on the edge
of a field
come on

she said
let's have a look
for some place
we can do things

I followed her
through the front gate
and along a path
by weeds

and flowers mingled
roses red and yellow
by a wall
she tried

a shed door
but it was locked
she walked further along
to the back

of the cottage
and tried the back door
which was locked
she looked

in a window
this porch way
would give us cover
she said

looking around her
cover for what?
I said
for doing things

she said
not comfortable though
she added
looking at

the red brick
by the back door porch
I was hoping
there would be

some where
she said
she drew me into
the porch way

and put her arms
about me
and kissed me
her lips

were warm
and wettish
her tongue entered
into my mouth

like a small fish
a tractor sounded nearby
she broke away
and looked

by the porch
over towards
the field behind
a blue tractor

moved by
the edge
of the field
the noise loud

and smoke rising
in the air
that was it
her whole body froze

and her eyes
had a cold angry glare.