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The Noose Nov 2017
Dust and Dead Weight
Shrouded in anguish
Marked by shame
Violent air in weary bones
Bathing in these
Waning threads of light
Vermillion mark
Were the heart used to be
Hyper, abandoned on the water
Rosy and disquieting
Tedious ricochet
Sacrificial devotion
The dizzying indecision
The paper thin backbone
Always the backbone  

Everything once gentle
Now littered with thorns
It always ends here
Dust and dead weight.
The Noose Oct 2017
Nostalgia drips from my chin. Their faces haunt me.
The curl of her hair is what remains etched in my memory
The blue of her dress
The fading figures
The sting in his eyes
His lengthy physique
I still remember his veiny hands
Arms folded
I remember the meal
The sinking feeling in my stomach
Waving in the distance
My ears are deafened by the sound
My heart deadened
As though someone else is wearing my body
My insides tremble
I remember the curl of her hair
The fading figures
Waving
I can still ******* tears
The lump in my throat
My soul enswathed in unrelenting murk
I feel but I cannot feel
I cannot recall yet I remember the way the sun felt on my skin
I cannot remember the final embrace
I cannot recall these things
I can still feel this thing
I cannot face it
The curl of her hair
I remember the blue of her dress
Fading shadows
Waving, smiling
I cannot forget the curl of her hair.
The blue of her dress
It is etched onto everything I touch, feel
It lives in between these painful breaths I take
Even now I cannot look at their faces.
Unedited
The Noose Aug 2017
It shrieks in conditioned iteration
Then it turns inwards on itself
Satiated from absurdity
Fervour absconds
The faculties
I am done chasing ghosts
The Noose Aug 2017
I had not the courage to write
My blood lacked the stillness
My pen ached to bleed
Words from this mildewed heart
I could not gather my bones
Nor my flesh
Disturbed by the noise in this labyrinth
I have felt like a burst natural disaster
All my viscous remains
Draining away to some forgotten wasteland
Where sorrow breeds
My emotions have been gentle but piercing

It's these roads devoid of landmarks
It's the thorns beneath my feet
The concrete boots strapped onto my ankles
It's the fog and my quivering hands
The want in my veins, how it roars
How on the best of nights
I cannot my life
And ever so often
The murk seeps from my fingernails
All these fragments of grace strewn
Like discarded morality

I have been too distracted in my feeble attempts
To grasp at the pale
My bones gravitate towards the irretrievables
Always
I keep seeing the colour of pearl
Blinding me
Binding me with
The Noose Jul 2017
Shadow of pretense
Illusions and mistakes
Strewn fragments of
Premeditated intentions
Was that a glitch in the matrix
The soil left the fingernails
The sea shut back
Satiated from absurdity
The freezing mercury quietened
Something sinister awaits
The deceiving calm
A plague blooms in veins
This too, shall not end quietly
I want to gather my bones and my flesh.
The Noose Jul 2017
I am afraid of the way need
Grasps my very bones
I cannot contain this emergency
Screeching through the fissures of burgeoning intent
These irretrievables
Release and tighten
The elusive alchemy of balance
The havoc it wrecks on the senses
All these feet can do
Is chase the wind
Frail hand's outstretch
In the static of melancholy
The Noose Jun 2017
Sinking in this shred of light
Intentions laid bare
Dragging the tremble of a jilted lover
I remain vaguely haunted
All I have ever embraced slips from my quivering hands
It's the obvious approach
This matyring
These are the bones I am made of  
Incessant heart's roar
The violence it wrecks on the senses

Long stretches of weary silence
Laboured sighs
Devoid of concrete
Lost among the stray remarks
Certitude becomes magic
Feigned ambivalence
My desires tucked behind my teeth.
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