please please take my diseased body,
exoskeleton broken irrelevance and and put the pieces together,
as a hobby,
to resemble a body,
you own my bones, and my capillaries are filled with foreign grapes,
bottled up, squashed and refined mistakes.
the levee breaks,
how does that **** stained fluid taste,
you druid fakes, robotic flakes, for heavens sakes,
the lessons break my heart.
or at least bends whats valuable into a malleable state.
crossed borders and crossed words,
word search and cross words,
finding me is just a doing word.
the symphony is simplicity, bittersweet or so i heard.
your patchwork, the match works when it strikes the corrugated sides of my insides.
starts a fire inside like a colt 44.
you've heard it all before,
but the sound is so obscured,
prevention or cure, i'm not sure anymore,
the sea shore is so far away,
that lands no longer a plan of mine.
but whenever you're around,
it's steady ground or quicksand.
my minds, mine. abused.
IQ through the roof,
but still sheltered from the storm by you.
born again like i'm passing through,
the ages created by the frustrated players,
of the game of life.  

Tonight, i'll sleep.

If i find you in my dreams then you belong to me.
it's not wrong to be,
in love with you.
it can't be.

why don't you get me?
but you get yourself,
i'm you inside your mind, you're not special.
Mankind is more than you,
but man doesn't exist - other than yourself.

what a pity,
the city is so pretty.
made by those more busy than your idle hands and plans.

your vision -
solipsism,
you won't listen to me who loves you more than you could ever believe,
but i'm not programmed to project my beliefs on the television screen.

they'll never listen.

more fool you.
you're a fool,
fools gold.
been told,
but you still don't know,  
how we grow and how we've grown.

nevermind, nirvana said.
you were never mine, karma said,
lay me to rest in the restless tempress of your best dress and whatever you say, and whatever you said.

what did you say i don't know and i've no idea what you said.
it's black and white, i fell for you like the domino effect.
what did you expect darling?

oh darling. you should know me by know.
i'm the ghost in the clouds that rains down when the conversation drys out.

fluffy and high,
i'll pass by soon,
and the skies will be blue again.
just like you again

I used to climb Trees

Out in broad daylight,
where we used to ride bikes,
My home time was defined by streetlights,
fistfights and first times.  

I used to play kick stone.
outside on the roads of my home. 
Scared of the dark when I was home alone. 
A sombre tone in those days. 

My cul-de-sac was a continent,
you couldn’t count the times 
we jumped hedges and jumped the brooks,
wider berths as we grew and beamed with confidence.

He grew up on the other side of the brook to me!

Exploration into dilapidated buildings,
to seek out lost felines for the £10 reward. 
One guy got stung by a bee nine times, 
he lived to tell the tale of course.

Thinking back sometimes, 
It was us who had nine lives,
playing on the tramlines and and swimming in high tides.
colliding with live wires and life lessons,

We built sandcastles and burnt them down,
in spaces of seconds.
Lost in imagination.
I stayed in the sea until my fingers wrinkled, 
but this happened more often in the bath if i’m honest.

It seemed so simple, 
within the borders of our town, in those days.
The good old days,
or so they say - 
but i don’t disagree with the sentiment of it all, if i’m honest. 

It’s a ghost town now,
Treehouse's and broken fences,
Sweet shops and trips to the dentist.
A playground apprentice,
like Dennis the menace,

Ernie and Bertie,
maybe.

The bell rang more times than I care to remember.

It symbolised the beginning of the next class rather than the end.
To some at least, i’m not quite sure precisely who.
But it always started in September. 

Those were the days, 
Kiss chase and roller skates 
missed chances and romances.
First dances and your first falls.

The sycamore tree got smaller,
but remains the exact same size.
The boys got a little bit taller,
some of us guys even became wise.

Life is full of surprises. 

We flew apart. 
The sun went down and we grew up.

And now I don't climb Trees anymore.

In the morning when the moon hides,
That's where I'll be.

The same place,
The same face.

Lost in thought, lost in space, floating around you, just in case;
look up you might see

I'll be amongst the atmosphere biding my time,
Waiting in time to shine off your reflection.

I'll be there at the reception of the clouds,
Waiting for the storm to pass.
You'll be proud now when you see who I am crescenly.

Presently I'm a lunatic, the tides not been on my side recently.
I frequently find myself hiding amongst the abyss, prophetically deep in thought,
waiting for the storm to pass and reveal myself like a lunar eclipse.

Those loose lips cause a nuisance.
Sink ships.

But why do you care about those haters with so many holes and so many craters.

That's not like you, that's not the moon I know.

I'll see you later this evening,
like most nights,
or I might of the storm passes in time.

Lay my head on a pillow of sentimental dreams.
Clouded vision, misguided moments.
Nostalgic memories, dispensed endorphinemachine.
Grudges held in high regards,
counterparts the spectrum of emotions experienced.

Token gestures of b r o k e n spirts,
r u g g e d features gold lies within it.

Within movements the snowflake melts in foreign temperatures.
History repeats itself,
things will never be the same again.

A beautiful eulogy,
an anthology of my soul.
Let it speak on the page in a delicate manner.
Channel my essence and bottle my compassion.
Make it happen.

Label it love.

Experience my being in your sensory safe house.
Whisper sweet nothings until they sweep me of my feet.
Hone in on my reason with the precision of multicoloured laser beams.
Lie to my in the format of lullabies.
Blow up my heart, let me be your doormat.
Actively break me, erupt and explode.
Eradicate your thoughts, erase what you were told.

Hang me out to dry -
let the crease decieve you.

Let me take over,
but don't let me defeat you.

Wait a second.
Steady hand my right hand man.
That must be the effects of the Diazepam.

One in the chamber, one in the chest, one in the body and one in the head.

One for each of his family members,
picture him dead, picture perfect and pick up the pieces after the death.

.....if there's anything left.

I'm right over here.

rat
a
tat
tat.

Onomatopoeia..

What's the matter dear?

Nothing to see here, but bullet ripped flesh and civilian fear.

No need for tears.
No need for tears.

Keep composed. You'll be home soon. In your own tomb or personal hell.
Waking to the sounds and screams of mortuary shells.  

Reload, you know how it goes.

Decomposed in a body bag, forever alone.