I'll say after a
good amount of
searching and reading,
conversating and listening.
That maybe its the mad ones
who sit like statues on the steps
facing Beacon street,
who may be the only
ones who really
know the truth.

There's that way we
are all supposed to be
and that cruel myth that is
happiness.
The tales they
tell as truths keep
me seeking out the
whys while beating
back the reasons.

Material joys can
numb it,
but its the drugs
that **** the pain,
new cars don't.

Let the masses look
to their religions
let it act as their ******.
For my gods are
closest when danger
is near.

There's not enough answers,
just as there are no
real Saints in
San Pedro.
As far as I can
tell.

Friends may come and go
but it's the addictions
who remain reliable.
Where people hurt
drugs comfort.

Put me in charge
of this destiny,
I've guided it thus far
through the foggy mornings
and forgotten nights.
The short lived happy times
and the hardest of times
that always outshine
them all
on paper.

Allow me a little
control of
this destiny,
however short lived
that destiny
may become.

Are the boys in?
Benedict asked
no they've gone fishing
with their big brother

Milka said
O right
Benedict said
looking at her

standing there
in her Baby Doll
nightie
best go then

I was going
to the cinema
this afternoon
not sure

if they'll be back
in time
she said
he  looked beyond her

into the kitchen
your mum
not about?
no Dad's

taken her shopping
I’m on my own
she said
gazing at him

want to come in
for coffee or tea
or something?
she asked

no best not
he said
she expressed
disappointment

if your parents
come back
they'll put
two and two

together
and come up
with ***
he said

no they wouldn't
they would think
you'd just come
and were just going

I’ll say you came
for the boys
and had only
just found out

she said
you'd lie to them?
he said
if needs must

she said
needs?
he said
how long

have they been gone?
20 minutes
how long
will they be?

long enough
she said
he looked behind him
at his bike

by the fence
of the field
chickens were pecking
around the barn

I’ll come in
for coffee
he said
she backed in

and he followed
watching her cute ****
swaying before him
take a seat

she said
he sat on a seat
at a large oak table
strong or weak

black or white?
white strong
two sugars
she smiled

and took two mugs
down from a shelf
and prepared the coffee
in both

a radio was playing quietly
in the background
the Kinks
were being played

he noticed
she had nice legs
plumpish but neat
from ankles to ****

she poured water
into both mugs
and dripped in milk
she gave him his

and sat down
gazing at him
we have the house
to ourselves

she said
my bed
lonely upstairs
wanting company

she pouted
and pulled
a baby face  
how comes

your not dressed yet?
I seldom get dressed
till late on Saturdays
unless Mum

has a moan
Milka said
Benedict sipped
his coffee

she sipped hers
we could be doing things
she said
we are doing things

he said
we're drinking our coffees
you know what I mean
she said

he looked
at the wood stove
with logs on the floor
warmth came across

a picture hung
on a wall
by a Welsh dresser
they may not

be back for hours
she said
time enough
he mused on her words

but the image
of her parents
coming back
whilst in play

haunted him
not today
he said
your mother trusts me

Milka frowned
and sipped her coffee
shame she does
Milka said sulkily

a Beatles' song
came on the radio
I could sit on your lap
she said

the door of the kitchen
opened and her mother
came in
with shopping bags

and plonked them
on the table
O hello Benedict
come for the boys?

yes
he said
Milka made me a coffee
while I waited

good girl
she said
but still
in that silly nightie

just as well
Benedict is a good boy
or I don't know
what would have happen

my girl
Milka stared at him
as her mother
put away

the shopping
he looked innocent
as a peach
and knew now

that Milka
was out of touch
and out
of his reach.

You can spend all that time
Looking at yourself in the mirror
But you'll never see what I see when I look at you.
I watched you find your flaws every day.
I wanted you to see your perfections.
That page,
That is what you are.
That is what I see.
I wanted to show you what the world sees when it looks at you.
You're art.
I want you to remember that, as you go forward.
You are art. You make people feel something.
Your beauty and your flaws,
Both are exquisite.
I drew you the way I did,
I doggedly kept on
Until I captured whatever essence makes you mesmerizing,
Because I wanted you to know what it's like for us,
The others,
To look at you.
You are art.
Don't forget it.

Maybe it was the way she sifted through my skin,
dismantling my defenses and sending shivers down my spine.
Maybe it was the way she held my hand,
with her persuasive words pulling me in to an unlit room.
Maybe it was the way she held my head inside her hands,
kissing me without holding back, as if she had nothing to lose.
Maybe it was the way she cradled into my arms at 10PM,
with her hair all over my arms and her cheeks against my chin.