***** and sweat,
Hunched and broken,
By the toilet bowl
I will flush you out
Until the only thing left of you
Of us
Is the tears in my eyes
And the acid in my throat

i think the worst thing you can be
is afraid
worshipping at the altar of fear
is how man is ruined day after day
locking hearts in cages
is the act of a coward
and yet...
and yet.
everyday i am afraid
of society
of the facts about myself i bury and suppress
i kneel before the thundering clouds of fear
and submit to them
but one day soon
i think i may
stumble on
even as anxious lightning
strikes me at my core

i'm trying not to be afraid
and maybe you could call that bravery

i want to float amongst the stars
and feel the ache of loneliness
that comes with beauty

another drop of joy i clasp
welled in my hands
slips helplessly through my fingers
and drips into the tranquil lake
where it can no longer be reached
lest i lose the bliss i treasure like a reserve
and although i thirst greatly
i will not drink
another drop slips

a trembling candle flame
spluttering and unsure of itself
but casting a warm light nonetheless
you blew it out
and then used the still hot tip
and pressed it to
my wrists
my neck
my heart
and said ‘we can still be friends’
i knew it wouldn’t last
and i was right

your heart is an apartment building;
you the landlord
and you invited me to live there
so i made it my home

adorned the shelves with my trinkets
painted the walls your favourite colour
and ignored it when the mould began  
creeping up the walls

received my eviction notice
and as the door slammed shut behind me
a sign displayed the words
For Rent

quick fire thoughts
like bullets in the night
refuse to let me be
and so i am condemned to my plight

made friends with the moon
and wave at the sun when she rises
the bruised sky outside my window
reminds me of the untouched pills my doctor advises

there is a certain intimacy
in sharing poetry with another
it's like stripping the body of skin
untangling the bones
to reveal the soul

stop asking to see it
i don’t want to show you.

the problem with “unspoken understandings”-
words never said but meant to be known, is that sometimes
there is no understanding at all,
just hushed words
whispered into a telephone
with a muted receiver.