My unshed tears
Are flooding the hole
*In my chest...

A mass pushing into me like a great lorry
The leather jacket, the smell of the dead
The skin so shiny like a glass filled with milk,
White and whole and fattening, filling you up

But not full yet, one final blow to come
And the covering of the legs like netting,
Rips apart, an opening to another world,
Begging me, asking for it, shaking with knowing

Had you not picked the fruit from that tree,
Tasting its seeking, desperate sweetness
Perhaps i would not feel your weight as I did
And you would fall down like an infantile bundle of feathers

The epidermis, the subcutaneous layer, the blood
Moving quickly then slowly then quickly
Are you still there? I shouldn’t care
A button falls from your breast, a trickle down your cheek

The eyes, the eyes! They follow me, the train,
Moves slower as it pulls into the station
And makes one final sound, a signal,
I’d rip their eyes out and let them bounce onto the tracks like marbles

So many stains of blood and war and toil
Lie across the carriages and out onto the moors,
I wouldn’t worry,
I’ll make it clean with disinfectant and run smooth again with oil

I

I'll prise you open with shaking fingers because everyone around me is quiet

Watching moving pictures which do not move

As little sound as possible in dim light which is only partly reflected in you

In my mouth you crunch and my eyes dart left and right

But soon it is soft, melting, slipping into me slowly like the fondest memory

And I have given up in pleasing the irritated whispers and angry nudges

Into you I will go, my fingers becoming softer and smoother with each release

Of salted, fattening sheets

I am a poor, hollow creature who has waited so long to gorge


II

All I hear is strings of letters and I am in love

I see multitudes of colours and weep at their beauty,

I see grayscale, I see noir, I'm shocked at their significance

Because my life is so insignificant

Nothing to birds who fly without me

Nothing to worms who bury not for me

Get your head out of the bag it'll do nothing for you

Nothing for you

Nothing

A gestural Bad omen upon thy departure,
Wide awake with mistresses in white dresses,
Radically rude nor haunted by hate of fate,
Perjured to be doctors right hand man, thou
Canst bear any more napkins nor feeding skeletons,
Ward of changing faces, daily new files and sheets,
Dwell to witness Groan and roar men, Die of torment,
Terror nor Trauma, Thou Death be thy ally, savior

Nor conciliator, with thee thy flash rest ‘n soul delivery
Unto thy maker, No more garden of life nor a dream land
thy wish not to be, Shall there be any better way to die?
If dost in white dresses be swell’st Mistresses, well beseem
Of Proven quest, Passionate, and delicate, this be no
Army for every Brave men

Hhe lived before, now and will always live, he is the creator and the keeper of the living, he is the king of kings, the ruler of rulers, he is the master peace, he is life, he is love, when everybody laughs at you, hurts you, abandon you, he stand by you, stand with you, sthreangthen you, when you think you had enough of this life, he is a powerdul,pure,righteous and faithful ''God'', even when you feel like letting go of this life, feel like you are on your own, he makes you feel that you are not alone, because he knows your problems, he knows your needs and above all he knows your happiness, his will can not be changed, undone and will never be shaken, he is kindnes, goodness and tanderness, his yoke reign for peace and comfort, when your afraid he will give you courage, when you fall he wiil lift you, when your lost he is your way, when you fail he will forgive you, when your broken he will mend you, he is the first and the last, the begining and the end, he is a living God, all you need to do is to believe and call his name '' FATHER'' he will provide

What can a man do, helpless as we are hopeless, believe it or not, the only truth about human existance is that; both the rich, the poor, the wise, the foolish, the good, the evil, we are all slaves to destiny, no matter how we try to change it, deny it, fact is; it is the end of it all, we live at the mercy of destiny, though destiny can not be dissapointed as for man live and die, so will you and i; destiny is the ultimate decider of a man's reality, never have i stood aside when man rise and fight their battles, watch man suffer and die at the hands of destiny, then i knew that if we are really slaves of destiny, we must not always slave in tears and hardship, we can atleast slave in dignity and comfort

before the day the night retires
black tucked in by dawn's pale fingers
lifting a cover of sun
across damp sands
evaporating patterns withdraw to shore.
needle arms salute the clouds
trails of lycra ants
empty heads
from reds and whites
the week's download & lick of salt
night blanket gone
new slate to paint
scene of beacons & vessels floating
seawall haven
man on a board paddles the current
drifting a distance
in reach of shore

silent echo roars
a chasm of rock
valley empty of air
smoke from so many campfires
trapped & hanging
invisible nooses
loop & sway & attached to
nothing
trapped in lungs the planes of plumes
settle as velvet
drift around corners
tickling crevices, shrouding paths
trampled by history on horseback
beast seeks escape
from a misty tableau
sun at dawn & light weak from clouds
exit puzzle, guide lost a compass
veil descends to a river
the glass skin embraces