Reality
       Becomes it
Sooner
In a rush of sudden in a    heart-skip-inhalation
It lacks the grace you've graced me so gracefully with.
I'll say graciously.
It comes thundering in
Slamming doors
                                       Shut
Slamming hearts
Thundering in, and then it forgets why it came in the first place
              Why the **** did it come in the first place
Just to rush on home
            Where time lies naked   enfolded
In my aching

I can't bear it
       The thought of it
I can't bear it
The suddeness, the sadness
Your strength refuses to man the lighthouse
I can't bear it
Your face.
It's everything.
You.
You're everything.            Everything.
Everything.

And I'll whisper this
Quieter than all the silences between us
            That I regret
I'd cry to you a million cloudbreaks
If it flooded out those
            Don't let me be
Pleading, not now, when I lie
         Claim I want it most
I want nothing more than
Everything
To hear these sad songs form the
Background
Of something else
Something small like
       My heart
My heart in your hands
Hold on for dear life
Forever
No, now. Now more than ever.

Happiness is a strange tale
It paints itself in blue
Bluer than your eyes in the half-light and my heart when you whisper,
Wait I'm lying,
Bluer than my heart in your tears
    or my mind when you say
Nothing
Something

And it heaps up inside me
Piles of piles in piles on piles
Pilling up
The dread I so
Time again
Feverishly denied

I'm ******* afraid
            Of this
And 54 days from now
Then two days from one year
I can't see myself able to
             Cope
I'm madly in love
I'm ******* afraid

I need you more than this
I love you more than
This

Recollections jammed into a glass jar. If I'm left on a shelf in the third room on the first floor will you paint the walls the colour of your eyes. Last night, the night before and maybe all the nights before that they dragged whispers out of the seams around my heart. Blotch them in golden-blue-flows-green. Did you miss me with your legs folded down and out under a Christmas decoration I stole? Will you miss me in some third room next to a payphone that'll never dial me? Never tell me about the nights that would have me up kissing the clock at 3AM, when you whisper that you're home safe. You whisper that my heart's still safe. Isn't it strange? Nostalgically I think of places I've never seen and the depths feel empty. The depths feel free. I dip my feet into uncertainty and bask in the idea that nothing is more certain than you. Fold my solitude up, hide it in your back pocket. Here now maybe tomorrow and all the days thereafter and before and maybe yesterday or today and basically always, that's how long I'll last should you let us. Will we let us. Let us go forth in the name of twenty promises in a homemade bag. It stretches itself out against the car window shouting your name until its throat runs raw. I've never begged for anything other than the time you keep. Your hand on my left knee while green signs shout your name in white. Over and over and over. Let me hide in the hollows of your shoulders. Let me hide. Let me hide. Form my hideaway.

Perfection stopped being what you spoke about on Saturday evenings.
Instead she walked around barefooted with her hair bewildered and her blue eyes dancing with your soul.
You found her in little strands on your pillowcases and car seats and floating around in your head.
She rolled you up, tucked you in, turned her back on you when it got rough.
She fell silent, just like you.
Sans peace in loneliness.
Fragility woven into her like she herself was woven into you.
She smiled.
Smiles that traced your skin lightly.
Smiles that dug their way through your flesh and made your chest feel bigger. Safer.
Perfection wasn't what you spoke about on Saturday evenings.
Perfection wasn't perfect.
Perfection was all you had needed all those Saturday evenings.
Her.

******* for thinking it's okay. You're self-righteous and you never really had a right, she doesn't owe you anything. Except some time. You'll end up watching how it crawls up your spine much too quickly; infects the days and spoils the hours. Rotten like every kid with a present bigger than yours. She'll call your words too lyrical, you're a hopeless romantic she'll have you know.
You'll spit romance up in bloodfroth and it'll gush from the wounds you placed here yourself. You just wanted a battlescar, now your skin feels rubber from all the healing. You used to be beautiful too you know? That was before their time. When the landscape was godless and your mind less of a dump. Infected and spoiled; it's rotten now, like every kid with a present bigger than you'll ever have.

follow tar veins
flowing through chiseled earth
to my obfuscated world where i'll wait

and if by dawn you arrive
in your whirlwind of grace
i'll show this place

we can dance
amid notes
amid words
amid silence

if you're willing to find me
before the morn breaks

Crinkly in madness, self doubt and pity
I laugh like a madman and speak as if witty
I dance with your demons for they dance with me too
I lost mine some time back
They're left dancing in you
For lovers come and go
And so do demons
You know

And I wonder 'neath dimming night light
Why happiness's never seem to sit right
And then become little forgottens
in all the wrong places
Where flesh lies half rotten
In little jump-jerkles
Upon sensing the fear
Of being forgotten, here
I know

That maybe some weren't ever meant
To lead it foolish and giddy
Joyful and witty
Maybe I
Aye I
Was destined to die
Crinkly in madness, self doubt and pity

It's navy-night streaked with dusty stars and cold sand creeping into places I'd much rather be. It's arms streaked with bits of you as entity glows in fickle-firewood-flare and your hands eversearching and my hands eversearching for all that is you in abundance. It's the milkyway in your blue eyes and the ocean in your smile. Every small beauty you notice. How every strand of freedom on your luscious head tells a story of the truthfulness one finds in people when they don't notice. It's your voice - and imagine strings - goosing up my skin. It's darker and it's glowing and it's further and we don't really need the half-light so we wet our feet but it should be colder but it isn't. It's almost there and actually there and you're lovely here. It's falling asleep at nine-eleven-two-four, waking up in between and having you to fill. It's the last draw of lips and your condensation on my neck. How you should be wrapped tighter-untilthegapsareallgone. How I'd trace every dip and rise, the lines that make the muse and kiss
Until exhaustion closes.
Your chestful echoes deeper
Your butterfleyes fluttering closed
It's feeling you
Splitter-splatter-splutter
Your story onto this stained canvas and making it worth a glance or fourteen;