When I was a boy, and on the days I didn't have swimming club,
I exited school sprinting
and I waited,

in my parent's medical practice.
The waiting room was white and reflective,
with artificial LED lights and worry,

the cream carpet was scratchy on my always naked toes,
clashing with the too-big chairs, red like blood, soft like hope,
hardwood arms with fingerprints pressed deep, still unbroken.

The child's corner was complete, with toys and comics and waiting kids,
only for babies though, not me.
Still, I was forbidden from the office,

where nurses, receptionists and secrets roamed,
seen over top the unassailable counter
and by poking my head around the corner of the grey-stamped door.

Sometimes, when I simpered and smiled enough,
the nurses would pat my head and unlock the password protected corridor computer,
where I would play online games on Miniclip.com.

It always smelled so very clean at the hospital,
and I wouldn't want to leave when Mum or Dad finally finished;
“I'm nearly done, I've nearly won”, but no, no, time to go home.

It only Achieved,
But I wake to see it,
Framed by push-pins and posters,

Painting with dashing strokes,
Procrastination and teasing,
Jokes abound until the teacher returns,

Heads down, silence, back to work,
Back to fooling around,
Once her head turns away,

The end bell rings, yet we stay,
Because we haven't finished yet,
Friends in foolishness and art,

Just school memories now, all a-jumble,
Faces faded, names forgotten,
Posted to Wellington,

It's back by my bed now,
The streams of colours screaming,  
A storm of paint, waving in riot,

Between and beneath the paper,
Two frozen figures twirl,
Outstretched, eyes bound,

Step by step they dance,
To the beat of forgotten tunes,
Waltzing joyously,

Frankenstein-stitches stain the page,
Tributaries of tropic colour flowing,
Glow and bend and blend,

A blur of acrylics on my wall,
Those days bleeding through,
Now and then.

The greatest Coffee I ever had,
Was slurped down quicker than beer at a party,
But the best Barista was nothing of the sort,
He couldn't understand my language, nor even my gestures,
I had pointed a shivering finger at the smudged white chalk that once said 'Mocha',
But perhaps he knew what I needed,

While I waited icy chill nibbled at my ears and darkness deepened before the dawn,
My nose burnt cold, steaming red and dribbling snot like an oil-leak,
My hands wandered for warmth, searching pockets, armpits, sleeves,
Heavy socks and heavier boots shuffled, scuffing square-cut stones,

Finally, with a hurried grunt and a waving hand, I got my mistake,
I fled away from the waiting crowd,
With my coffee into the quiet of the mountain,

The bobbling beanies, fluttering scarfs and clicking cameras faded away,
Leaving solitude, me and my coffee,
Up so high, my ears brushed the roof of the sky,

It was an elixir of warmth and wakefulness,
Served in a grey tin-cup,
Scratched white with age and use,
Full of faith and function,

My tight fingers clenched coldly to the second-hand heat,
Radiating from the metal mug and the lava in a cup,
Steam filled my lungs and the sweet smells rose bitter,
Like a dream of waking up,
Unsettling my huddled thoughts and grabbing the bottom of my spine,
In a heady vice,

Around the world fell away, grey stone to greenery, far below,
And then up again, black, holy and alive,
Ended in a snow scar ridge silhouetted against the waking sun,

I watched,
As the pitch colours, of both the charcoal coffee and the heavy sky,
Blended into lighter tones,
Burnt summer brown and an aubergine orange, glowing in sunlight,

With each sip, both the day and I awoke,
Rising, ascending, resurrecting,
Golden glow breaking the black,
While the black potion spelled a golden warmth,

The taste is melted snow now, gone beneath rays of sunshine,
But the burning heat of the liquid of life and light,
Remains, filling heart, teeth, tendons and hands,
Until long after dawn is done.

Amid an ungracious scrum of DJ hum,
Her unmoving eyes, hook and bind,
Deceitful lips kiss a concrete grimace,

Her lying words mix with cliched verbs,
My screams, drowning in our dreams,
No fairy-tale kiss exists, it's hopeless,

The music meets radio screech, where life's a beach,
My ears bleed, soul's ugly seed, that's all I need,
Hate's taste, callous as fate, it's too late,

Drunk on ***** lust, by dancer's ******,
Heart-scars unscab, unbleedingly stabbed,
Face writ with tear-stains, no pain, just bitter love remains,

Drum's pulse, with heart's last heat, skipping beats,
Guitar cracks, strings snap, take it back! Remake, dreamer awakes, it's all fake,
Romeo is dead, it should've been Juliet instead.

Tide take me away with you,
Storm roll in and over me
Sea let me delve your depths
I will swim in your ocean of sin
And let the waves wash my guilt away
Before I drown in love with you.

I leave the day behind,
And in the shadows I dream,
Waking to walk in icy night,
The stars bring my dreams to life,
They warm the cold cockles,
Of my dimmed, desperate heart,
And promise all my wishes will come true,
I smile sadly, wavering  on the edge of belief,
To be, why not to be, I think I will try.

When twilight's last gasp is past,
And marshmallow ember are burnt to burgundy,
Charcoal sky decays to pitch,
And Luna's last light flickers and fades,
Whilst countless icy spark flower and grow in a slumbering sky,
To fill both heart and heaven with unspeakable beauty.