I oft feel an angry kind of love
like that of a tender tempest.
I guess it's best described as
that moment before you start
to cry
when your tears swell
and press against your eyes
waiting
to let out their fiery fear.

Insecurities are, by and large,
the number one contributor
to this ******* feeling.
I could be talking to you
and you could be talking to me
expressing all manners of affection
and, sure, I'd take it.
But the little ******
in the background
will warn me of ulterior motives,
malignant and baleful
that will seriously **** with me
and keep me thinking
whether its true?

I hope its all a load of
*******
absolute ******* *******,
and when you do say
"I love you",
I'll say it too.

St Paul stands
stiff as a stone
recovering from
centuries of sinful sorrow
buttocks bare
waiting next to an Itsu.

6:56PM
Waterloo Bridge/Southbank
stone cold shells
with staircases of
helter skelter;
the thames is high
with christmastide
Lancaster Place
6:58PM

Train graveyards
Old warehouses
Concrete trees
which double as
slutty shelters
to help the
young women
find their footing
on piano wire
as enchanting
as it is dangerous
because it will constrict your throat
and then what will the ambassador do ?

im divorced
but i wear
my marriage ring
on my ******* as a
last
******* !