my love for you
is the wildest rivers of my poetry
where the night melts into
oblivion and all i can feel is your
love, devouring me, desiring me,
uncovering me, until
i am but blood and bone,
a bluesy wind instrument
serenading the skies.
in your love everything that
i need, every tender star
a bird gliding in
the night, moon-ful,
soulful, wrapped in silvering
dream. climb, climb to the
running hills where i’ll reach you,
leave me burning feverish
and excited, wrap me in your love.

Mascara blood
Ash and ***
On the Rorschach sheets where we make love

**** the world **** straight malaise,
It may be just us who feel this way.

But don't ever doubt this, my steadfast conviction.
My love, you're the one I want to watch the ship go down with.

The future can't be real, I barely know how long a moment is.

we're naked getting high on the mattress
While the global market crashes.

As death fills the streets we're Conceiving life ,

Everything is doomed, and nothing will be spared

Don't they see the darkness rising?
Good luck figuring oblivion
We're getting out now while we can

I've brought my mother's depression
You've got your father's scorn and a wayward aunt's schizophrenia.

But everything is fine
Don't give into despair
Because I love you.

Growing up ugly, alternately fat and thin
eating scars for breakfast and time for tea

having almost climbed out of a buried bin
only for it to be upended & held in place with
1939's world atlas; the one that got europe all wrong
& like me, was designed with accuracy in mind

Personable birds of prey prodded, persuaded
and set free the mean old biped growing inside

beach ***** jolly popped and sandcastles raided
just to see the looks on hope & holyglow faces
their defeat in optimism: my triumph as ****
full circle towards schematic self-sabotage

Once again i am bitter drunk and to be wed
we improvised trite vows and cut ourselves

spare keys for access to one another's sickbeds
In attendance: maternal ghosts and retired reapers
hurting with knowledge & witholding screams
Liver-spotted harbingers of age and all its mistakes

Older now than I ever thought was likely:
refuse to fight against the alarms of everything

as everything and everything change around me
But there are too many different colours of skin
and i never was a tolerant, I was always just witch
Now finally alone enough to weigh my empty chairs

Surprising, that when black hands  materialise
my own teeth flash & spit through septic spells
make even him blink, in his absence of eyes
For in his face is a nothing that stills me

It's the same nothing that i've rotted with
All my sorry life i'd settled this way, instead of that

To ask for one more would be greedy, wouldn't it?
Now it feels like I've begged before, i'll beg again

I think when he kisses me  it will be over