An Embrace to you,
Is all I are.
I want to unwrap you,
from your Brown paper and strings,
again and again and again.
See Me? I'm a shooting star.
Even a dandelion is a ****,
or a blossom or a wish.
Steel and gravity centred;
Flaking black paint rusting,
virtuous, falling apart at your touch,
as I unwrapped your envelope,
Of a Kiss.
I evaporate at a degree of a volcano explosion,
a white brick painted,
at the edge of the road,
I guide your way to a flaking me.
Flying as you are through my mind,
about to reach fantastical implosion
and the skies are grey and pink,
a glitter of an old wives tail;
Do you soar my darling?
As I rust here in your shadow?
Bring me back together,
Hold for me the hammer,
and I'll be the nail.

She cried a single salty tear
all her hurt bound over the year
She realised she'd turned her hand
a footprint left behind in the sand

and all you goners, you left her from here
left her crying one salty tear
and she never left or walked away
she took each step, made it day by day

She took a hand and it was not yours
left your memory on distant shores
drowned your sorrow in sweat and blood
stayed a good girl, like all good girls should

and you took her more than she baragined for
left her naked and shivering on the floor
left her alone with her salted eyes
left her loving all she despised

no love song for you
and no glory be no more
she left your mercy washed up on the shore
no more are you here
no more i wonder or try in vain
no more should i let my love be my shame

She smiled a good smile and all was good
she stopped being a good girl
like all good girls should
she drank from her life and felt the burn
remembered all that she had to yearn

she lived a good life when all was said
left you lying there in your bed
and ****** on your sorrys and i wonder and what fors
didn't wait around for locked hidden doors

She fell full forwards and backwards a mile
she hit a battlefield when she saw your smile
but no alas, alack, you are no more
your love is like sand, washed upon the shore

good evening, good morning, good night
you lost me within the range of your sight
it took me 6 months and 6 months no more
to realise you are nothing, nothing no more

She dreaded the heading, the direction she was in
She followed and stalked
And cut and bled.
She smiled a dance and attuned herself to the weather
She taunted and laughed
And wept and prayed
She broke her arm on your words
Cold and dangerous as ice
She picked the heads off flowers
And chose carefully which day to dawn
She was never lost just weary and tired
She dreamt and slept
And hopped, skipped with a jump
She wrote a sad tune, a merry tune
She sang it silently and proud
And heavy and white
They say jesus tried to save her
But his advice was out of date
There were no footprints in the sand
Just heartbeats in her head

I think of you late at night, as I do blood courses through my veins, and my brain turns fuzzy, and my temperature rises, and i feel the familiar call of lust on my tongue.
I want you. Badly. Nothing, will stop me.
And though you and me have died a thousand deaths in our inescapable clutches from the other,
I still stalk you, like you are my prey.
I am desperate.
I am dying.
I am inculpable of my actions.
Each time i capture you, you burn me, you scald me, you tear me, you rip me, you score your name on my chest 17 times with a razor-blade until, now....?
It is just an open wound. For i know you will return.
I am not proud of this. You are of great shame to me.
And You, You come to me, You want me so badly but can't let yourself, and you die a thousand deaths in your mental battles, trying not to want me, and it weakens you each time, the love-me-yes, love-me-nots....
You hold out your hands to me, and I claw my nails into you.
You pull away, You have won, this time.
I have lost today
But i don't feel any pain, just a sweet faint trickle of a  memory, of you being here.
You are my drug, and i am addicted,
and it hurts,
but man,
you feel too **** good.

If i could take my sewing machine and sew you a song,
it would tell of old tales of girls sat by rivers crying their tears in to a river of wrong.
There would be a loud crescendo as time came to pass,
and love would be gentle, and not lost and profound,  
as much as it would tell you how to make it last.
It would tell the tale of two lovers, who struggled to survive, their love.
They made hope for each other, prayed for help from above.
Two lovers who had burns on their hearts from being burnt alive.
From being burnt by some other burnt heart.
From some other love whose love had dearly left and was depart.
The two lovers would be lost in each other, they would console and it would be suffit.
It would be enough.
It would not be enough, they would fear.
And this they held tight to their chest, next to the heart, and they held it dear.
They would long for the day when they would overflow from each other like a tap drips into a hole.
And from this sink, they would drink a mouthful of love everyday,
and this is enough,
they would, say, as their hurt became sewn into their soul.
If i could sew you a life in a pattern of cloth,
I would sew you a life that was love and that was loss.
I would sew you how people were lost from each other and had gone to war,
how they would cut their heart out, purely just because it was sore,
how these people would find themselves in each other but not in themselves anymore,
and how i would sew with cotton and silk,
and how you would see lovers crying, blood mixed with milk.
How you would see the colour of the sky that came from their eyes,
and the hate,
and the fame that came from their despise.
If i had some cotton i would sew you a tale.
I would would sew you a story,
but that would make no sense to someone with the universe in their hands,
and they would feel the love leaving between their fingers like fine pieces of sands,
and how they would not see hate but see the hearts of ten lost men,
who died in a coma of love,
and tore their muscles and shaved their hair for the lament,
of the ten girls who sat and cried to the lord above.
Oh if how i could sew you this tale,
if i could write and weave a song into life from these words,
how i could give you all of that which you deserve,
my love.
I could show you the heavens in your palms,
and the hell you construct that lays in your arms.
I would show you that we lose and we gain,
and that learning to let go, is never an ill gotten game.
For we lust, we love, and we let it all go,
and oh, my, god, doesn't it hurt so?
For you i would sew this with my sewing machine with a red letter and a gold pen,
and it would be a magnificent tale of way back when,
men were men,
and women stayed at home,
and the dog sat in front of the fire with a juicy bone.
There would be no jealousy,
no in-trepidation of fear that someone would steal thy love,
that someone would make you question yourself,
and that you are less worthy than thought from above.
And so with delicate fingertips, i weave and i sew,
for all of this my love,
for all of this you should know,
that love is never easy, and love comes, and love shall go,
and i am not forever, but i am here right now,
and i shall be here for a long time, if you were to take this vow,
sign me here with my cotton, and my lace,
let me give you a second look in the mirror at your face,
for is this you, for whom i sew this song,
is this for everything you lost, and everything that went wrong,
is this for your forefathers who loved and hated and cried and slaved away,
is this for your lovers, who changed when the night became the day?
Or is this for you,
who i see so very clearly,
for who i cannot but see,
and for who i would fight for with my hands, my fingers, my tongue,
bent, broken and down begging on one knee.
For i love so dearly.
For this is a song sewn in to the fabric of time,
i sew,
and it is for you,
for you are for me,
and it is mine.

She writhes in your head like an old time movie scene, moves in sepia on a multi faceted screen. And I say multi in an American way, to make it more real, to make my language more spectacular, because the scene becomes wooden and fragile, portraying what could have been. I feel what I feel, I feel, I feel, I fell, sweet dreams are made of these. Of her. Of her. It’s just a moment, one moment, a forever moment, a moment to last forever. Return, return, delete, rewind, eject, Play. Nothing but silence. Black eyes, black hair, splayed across my pillow. My cheekbones feel the cold, but there is nothing in the air but an hour of her beauty.

I see her tears, those that she has which to cry. They have built a mountain in her mind, drowned the molehill she never even saw. I drive away, I feel the gears crunch beneath my feet, the pressure on the accelerator, the music takes me away. The movie is static now, click, clack, the sound of the track. Ball bearings roll around the inside of my mind. She becomes the centre of gravity, the room spins and envelops all the background noise, the lights flicker and burn, your skin tingles and hairs freeze in anticipation , for her. Her. Her. Her. Time is nothing but time, man-made affluence which becomes influential in smoky rooms and dried out bars.

She has the kind of smile, religious in its endeavours , it wears a medal honouring the highest bravery that humankind can commit. She gives you a moment of peace and it lies beneath your feet waiting to settle on your skin. There is rain in the air, it starts in the west and rises with the sun, follows your footprints when you are on the run. Grasping at her clothes, her arms follow yours, you talk with your eyes, a language, of love, under the starriest skies. Lost in her whirlwind, I feel grounded in her grace, lost in the moment in the beauty of her face. And to think that she is an illusion of the majestic kind, her arrogance and emptiness have left her spurned and blind. And my footprints begin to fade.

Dancing in the garden underneath the stars, to music not heard by human eyes. Looking for belonging, looking for hope, sacred artefacts not found in the eyes of a lover. Shaking my head, shaking my bed, playing hide and seek with memories of snapshots taken before you were reborn. Lovelost and forelorn. Candles dance in the darkness, making shadows against the wall, fingers grasp for her, to feel her in your arms, to hear her speak your name, your name, your name, is beauty on her lips, sweet and hungry are those words which we wish to hear, felt by fear. Feelings, feelings left in a box on a shelf ******* with a bow, a gift, a wanton surprise.

Define real, define reality, define fallen. She wants a need she knows not of. How does this beginning end? I remember her as once we played with fire. Her introduction to me is not made. All I have to pay you with is faith and trust. She did not suffer once on this journey, she found her way in my arms, and found was I in her loss.

Do you hear my skin breathing?
My heart beat is dry heaving,
it is so loud, it is drowning me,
and i,
cannot,
breathe.

Except through my skin,
that breathes your fingerprints in,
through my barrier-made flesh.
I think i am quite empty, now.

My head is reservoir, dry,
though sometimes there are a lot of bees,
so i don't have to think...so much.
and there is only quiet darkness,
when i close my eyes,
and unbecome.
-
I wonder what I am becoming,
as i become something for you,
as i, become, a something, for, you.

Turn me around again, and again,
I can smile, for you,
because its much more seemingly right,
and quietly simple,
than to cry.

Though many nights i am defeated by myself,
i stifle the sounds i make,
sandwiched inbetween the karaoke bars,
and late night redezvous of cars.

I  can fill the black chasm of my chest,
with the life from the tears in my pillow,
and my hair will hold all my dead dry weight,
my weight of sorrow to feed my shame,
as i am made wrapped up, to be-made for you.

I would willingly drown,
if it meant i could escape this anguish of an island,
where i am not seen,
Invisible
yet touched,
and adored,
where i am not become,
until you unravel me undone.

So here i am,
on my knees,
and i have no way of knowing,
what i have become for you,
But you see a gift,
and you may take me now,
just as i am,
sold as seen.

The denigration of western society has been slowly been created by ourselves, we are the cog within the machinery. Anonymously we have in turn allowed ourselves to become part of the problem. We are silenced by those who had the loudest mouths who really say nothing at all. We live in awe of respect for those who have the power to change the world but do not. Though we as the majority have the power to do so, but have no self-belief. We are innately bound to this oppressive weakened society where capitalism and consumerism have become our churches and our footballers and celebrities are our saints. Never could they sin as bad as your brother or your sister, yet you would pay some media company to know it all, to see that their problems are your problems, that you are part of their world, that you secretly yearn for a place in this world that is more than what you have accepted. Because yes, you accepted this life. You accept this is the way life is, that you should suffer and be manipulated by greed and power. And to think how frustrating that is, that you accepted this, and however much you hate it, you feel powerless to do anything about it.

And what of love and passion? Even altruism has become anti-altruistic “he/she’s only doing it for the fame/power/money";  it quickly becomes a commodity. Where are the true lovers, the true passionate keepers of dreams and firer of fireworks? They are ostracised by society. They work in jobs we class as thankless tasks. They keep close company with people of their own kind however they are our key to being happier, they love equally and fully. They represent what many of us spurn but secretly wish to be or what we want. Freedom to act, to be individual, ‘to break free from the chains that bind us’. We are constrained by a secret institution, where ‘they’ are our gods. We live by their rules. It is in our minds. Positive mental attitude never hurt anyone, only fear and fear of fear, leading to hurt, anger, control has always been consistent when looking at manic depressive societies – when the only time we get truly excited is when a major chain store brand has a major boxing day sale.

Oh to think we don’t belong to anyone – we can actually be who we want to be, how freeing is that? To think that we don’t need to find love in the arms of another, to be loved is to be fulfilled. Really? What about the love for yourself? You can only be loved as your capacity is to love yourself, because that is how you will understand love to be.How to feel that free and to be in love and to be loved - What a freedom. Loneliness is a evil of the mind, bore by love stories created by the media, that we need to find our soul mate, someone to live with forever; to try to have that perfect relationship, and that someone with whom we are compatible with – when why not just be, be loved, love in return, **** happens. We break, we fall, we get back up, we are not alone, we can turn around and life be changed in an instance. But we never stop being. Accept who you are. Because this is enough. There is no check list. How you are perceived does not mean you are defined by just this. Don’t be defined by your dictionary term. You are loved. You are wanted. You are amazing and beautiful in your own right.
We are born, we die, this is what we are sure of; inbetween is the path that you make. So make it a good one. Smile more, because you really are beautiful when you do so.

My dad says I'm too nice, and laughs 'never let them feel safe'
My mum says I try too hard, and is fustrated. 'it will be ok, I promise'
My friends see my heart on my sleeve, and despair. 'I don't know why you do it to yourself'
And I stand back, see this happening.
Like my friend is being hurt, and I'm too chicken to help.
Like a game, I was never meant to win.
So when it happens again, there is no-one left to blame, but myself
A child, unable to learn a lesson in ****** up world.
The rules keep changing. I am lost.
People keep getting hurt.
Those people hurt people
Those people hurt people
Those people hurt
Me.
On the ride of my life unable to get off.

You.
you've poisoned me.
something
inside
is wrapping
itself
around
my
heart.
It's in
my
veins
and i
can feel
you
to
the ends
of my
fingertips.
It's in me.
You
are
in
me.

Can we just play *****, you and i?
I mean give me looks across the table, that you are disgusted with me, for taking my ******* off and dropping them in your crotch. I mean like you talk to another girl and glance at me, as if to say '******* *****', knowing you will **** me; Later.
Let's play *****, come on, i will welcome you in to my house, in stockings and leather, and push you against the wall; grab your hand and bend it back whilst i bite your neck. Push my knee between yours, and hold your chest in my hand whilst i make you watch me unbuckle you. Let me drag you on the floor, whilst you try to get up and say 'not here'.
Why can't we play *****?
I don't want no ******* bedroom. I want the doorway, i want the hall, i want the kitchen counter, i want the living room floor and the shower. I want the couch, where i will straddle you and make you watch me as i undress myself for you, slowly, pulling, my, stocking down, so my knee is between your legs and i lean over you, so my ****** points out to your mouth, and i can hear you breathing, and every time you move towards me, i pull away.
Why can't we just play *****?
Why can't you get me mad, and we argue so bad that i want to smash my fist in to your skull til you bleed all over my kitchen floor, brains on the washer...then pick me up, throw me on the bed, slap my face about, slap open my legs and grab my throat and the other hand on my chest as you push deep into me? Hear me gasp, watch my pupils widen, groan at you, watch as you come close to my ear, and say, 'this is what i *******, wanted'.
Why can't we?
Why can't we be deviants?
Why can't we go play in the forest?
Why can't we do like animals do?
Why can't we make two barebacked beasts in the moonlight?
Why can't we play *****?
I touch your leg as you drive, playing the piano up and down your thigh, biting my lip, running my fingers up and down your thigh, nails pushing deeper, up and down, up and down, until you pull the car over, slam the brakes on, pull off your seatbelt and grab me, push the seat back, as  i smile a secret smile as you breathe deeply in my ear as you pull off my wet knickers, and begin to take me on a journey through the stars.
Why can't we play *****?
Shut your eyes. Shut your mouth. Shut everything, the, ****, up. Listen to the beat of my heart, as it quickens and i place your hand over my chest, and i look in your eyes. Stop you talking about me, about what i am like, and who i am, and what it should be, and this and ******* that.
I don't want no tv before bed, i don't want no book, i don't want no midnight stargazing.
**** that ****. ****, me.
I want to play *****, with you.

I felt like you had flown me to the stars to see the moon rise, and then dropped me. My heart broke before I hit the earth. As I fell I watched you drifting further and further from my eyesight. I miss you but not as much as I miss her. That is why I can bear this stick and stone kinda hurt. I watched you put on a hat and tie for me. Twirl your moustache for me. “Call me if you need me” you said. “I love how you smile” you said. “I think you are beautiful” you said. All the things you said. Seems like a stupid ridiculous pop song.  How life can be so real. How you made my world turn, like a shiny disco ball you projected magnificent images across my wall, my bedroom wall, the walls of my mind. And soon they shattered into tiny ambiguous pieces.

A blister on my thumb. A spot on my jawline. Broken legs, broken heels. My mouth is sore for you. I fly like an empty wrapper around your feet on a dusky night. My words ***** at you from a white sheet where you are always the headline. And yet somewhere in the air there is music only you and I can hear. And you will never read me or will never hear me. A Caucasian homosexual feminine intelligentsia is on the prowl Be. Ware. I watched you dance on a festival sunset. I watched you smile, just at, me. I cut my tears on your, words. I have never hated someone so quickly as I have loved you. Panels of light beam from the floor as you walk along. My heart follows you like a lost red balloon.

You lie on me as a small child would to their mother. I want to make you dance across the room, wearing my shoes, playing a small ukulele, listening to my radio of songs you’ve never heard before. I want you to smile; I want you to be fearless; I want you to forgive me; I want, I want, I want...small pretentious, unforgiving, pedantic child. I am. Impatience. I crave your touch. I crave your ****** touch and your smile. Too much to ask? One can dream. Some would say dreams are nothing but empty thoughts. My dreams are nothing but you. So my thoughts are of you. I spy with my little eye, a disco ball, a shattering mirror falling to the ground with the pieces of music splintering into a million decibels on my ears. I cannot make this nonsense make sense. All I know is, I love you. I love you with an earth-shattering heartbeat that defies the sonic boom. i.love.you.

We all fail. This is redemption. Keep your money; all I want is the music.

I do not live in a castle, or upon a cloud
I try not to be too naive or too proud
I do not sit on a pedestal or in an ivory tower
I do not pretend to have all the power
I do not have the knowledge or hold the key
I do not pretend to be anyone, just me
I make mistakes like all the rest
I am weak when I am at my very best
I speak a good story I don’t tell no lies
I don’t listen to myself so I’m not so wise
I wear my heart on my sleeve like a gun
I spend all my bullets when I am on the run
And no-one can follow me I am elusive to love
Yet I seek from below, I seek from above

I never deemed myself perfect
I’m stupidly stubborn when I believe I am right
I will sit and argue my piece through the night
I will not know what I want and then decided on a whim
Wanting to be loved is my only sin
So suffer away shall I alone and unique?
My heart is strong my will is weak
My impatience is a virtue I try hard to heed
It leads me to a labyrinth of emotion too confusing to read
But yet I know in my soul who I am and what I know
But yet I still believe you reap with what you sow
And I exhaust myself time and again to understand myself
Because I believe someday I will find a mountain of wealth
And really I know the truth - I know my fear
I am not lost I am already here
I forgot to believe that what will be, will be
And yes it is ok, that I am me

I do not live in a castle, or upon a cloud
I try not to be too naive or too proud
I do not sit on a pedestal or in an ivory tower
I do not pretend to have all the power
I do not have the knowledge or hold the key
I do not pretend to be anyone, just me
I make mistakes like all the rest
I am weak when I am at my very best
I speak a good story I don’t tell no lies
I don’t listen to myself so I’m not so wise
I wear my heart on my sleeve like a gun
I spend all my bullets when I am on the run
And no-one can follow me I am elusive to love
Yet I seek from below, I seek from above

I never deemed myself perfect
I’m stupidly stubborn when I believe I am right
I will sit and argue my piece through the night
I will not know what I want and then decided on a whim
Wanting to be loved is my only sin
So suffer away shall I alone and unique?
My heart is strong my will is weak
My impatience is a virtue I try hard to heed
It leads me to a labyrinth of emotion too confusing to read
But yet I know in my soul who I am and what I know
But yet I still believe you reap with what you sow
And I exhaust myself time and again to understand myself
Because I believe someday I will find a mountain of wealth
And really I know the truth - I know my fear
I am not lost I am already here
I forgot to believe that what will be, will be
And yes it is ok, that I am me

He is,
The.

The understandings of your very nature
that you despise
so you lock them away
forever.
Dreamer of fanstastical stories to tell the neighbours
and girls and boys in who's arms you rest at night
And the love you have is boundless
but you're empty all the same
And the arms you have harmless
but you have no-one to hold
And your morals and standards are above the beanstalk
yet there is no 'Jack' to reach them.....
And my mind is wondrous goldfish bowl
of a kaleidoscopic fancy and dreams
And there is love and princesses and avengers of hurt
and there are brave superheroes and friends, and happiness....

Yet in my home, it is empty
In my home, nothing is mine
Yet in my home, I am alone

By choice i tell myself, it is this way
I am strong, yet i fall
I am spiritual, yet i am lost
I am lost
I tell myself i am not meant for this world
too much of a rebel
too flighty
too much of a dreamer
too much of 'i don't care'
too much of 'what is the point'
too much of 'why?'

....Because there is a child locked inside my body
that is scared of growing up.
She lives inside a closet that she binds with strings
there she hides when she hears shouts and words
closing her eyes and covering her ears
there she runs from and pays avid impatient attention
when she hears wanting and 'i need you'
there she jumps and dives head first and strains
when she wants and sees love and affection
love!
love....
love?
there she hides from the notion of love
wetting herself in fear when she feels it at the door
there she hides when she is in reproach and failed
covering her naked body with a invisible cloth, her face turned straight
there she hides from being found out
face languidly ashamed and swollen from crying.

And i sought her out...I sought her out
and we hold hold hands,
because we are petrified
we are scared
because we lived in fear our entire lives
and hid from this world

This is our beginnings....

I watched them as they walked down the park
pants hung low off skinny white bodies
smoking long cigarettes that hung from their fingers
and seemed too long to be really there.
Summer. And heat.
Ice melts before your eyes and the waves drown the madness of the rain.
Nothing to lose and everything to gain.
People sitting in love on couches in their homes
Hiding from the sun, because, its…dare i say it…too hot?
I wear my hair tied about my head because its cooler that way,
but yet i am not cool.
My skin browns as i turn in the heat and i watch the children playing,
playing outside.
The tv has died a slow death. Adverts are crying out for attention.
Languidly we remember, our days in the heat, calling for friends with earnest voices.
Our hands trail through the air. We make promises with clouds, and prayers to the sky for a breeze that will cool our minds and bring about change.
And now, its all done and finished.
And i am slept from the night and drifting from the day.

I made this path my own
I laid these stories out like bricks upon the ground...
As i walked they rose up behind me to create a wall.
An archaic brick by brick, blow by blow, defense.
At the moment i learnt to write, my name,
and to the fists that grabbed my hair, made my breakfast and told me,
'I find it hard to love you';
there began, the foundations of my wall.
Stories about the loving punches of a lover,
the cheating of a best friend, who took my trust to town,
and the loss of my father's approval.
Lines were dug, and the stones laid, down.
Subconsciously i forgot to feel love.
I forgot what it was like to feel another's voice in my ear,
whispering sweet nothings,
of my beauty and the whole entirety of sweet rapture i exulted.
And my path stacked up behind me.
I forgot what it was like,
the thrill of a hand slipping into mine, a kiss on the neck,
it made me blush.
And my wall rose up proud and fierce.
I got scared, adrenalin coursed through my veins,
as i wondered what this new sensation was
and i questioned the very nature of the action.
And my wall rose to the occasion and flung off the feeling of security.
I forgot the thrill of the chase,
compliments rebounded from my ears,
and i laughed at the words 'i love you'.
And my walls closed in.
I forgot the feeling,
of being safe.
Of lying in someone's arms and feeling it was just o.k,
to be like this.
And my walls became an alleyway.
I walked and walked,
sometimes i ran,
but i never, ever, ever looked back.
I stuffed these compliments, hand holding and back-to-chest memories
in the bricks
and scribbled on them
'love is not real', 'you are unworthy', 'love is just a word'
in black marker pen, bold and thick in line,
so i could one day i could find them,
maybe take them down and find my way out.
But these bricks had become 2ft, 3ft, 4ft deep.
I searched for new lovers, new friends, new beings,
to show me what love was,
but each time i made the same mistake;
I believed in the beauty i thought love was,
because i had forgotten,
but my lesson wasn't learnt.
I scribbled my insecurities on those bricks.
And how i miss those days of those **** infernal butterflies,
those **** feelings,
those feelings, i tried so hard to lose so long ago.
My feelings, set in mortar and concrete.
I understand my path is not set,
my past is behind me,
but i am lost,
i am lost,
I. Am. Lost.
Love is not logical.
Love is not set in stone.
Love is not to be captured, or held over by dominion.
I cannot understand love, or to be loved; it's written somewhere in my past.
Someone once held my face and called me beautiful,
and i lost the will to believe it,
and i made this path my own.
And now i subconsciously walk alone.

They say lots of things about love,
They make it seem it is the ultimate desire,
Wanton and wilder than the known universe,
An cataclysmic explosion of two personalities,
Born separate, reborn together,
And yet...
I have loved worse men,
And lost better women than I deserve,
And now my convex chest is as vast and devastated as abbey ruins,
sanctuary,
sacred,
crooked,
ruined,
beautiful,
still here,
After hundreds of years.

Maybe I will live on in my memories,
For there are graveyards in my bones,
Eulogies imprinted on my arteries,
Long lost love letters scarred on my very marrow
For those that I drowned,
And those I saved.
My faith is a moorland hillside war memorial,
An obelisk to reach the very gods,
Your love is but a squall,
My hope is a trickle, a stream, a reservoir, in the deepest steepest canyon and Valley,
Your love is but a rain drop,
My clarity is at the bottom of a whiskey bottle,
Your love is but an ice cube.

Do not ask me brazenly to die for you,
When ******* me is your finest hour,
And I am but a pleasure boat ride for your masculinity to take a trip in,
We are not divine here;
My expectations are as low as your esteem:
A water you paddle in, a toe dipped perhaps,
but you wouldn't swim through, dare to at least,
And yet,
I am a rushing beautiful rainbow of a waterfall on a sunburn induced day,
The haze in the corner of your eye,
When you begin to question,
"is this too good to be true?".
Yes.
We are all but fallacies.

Dip your fingers and cross yourself,
As you wish for clemency.
But still,
Be still,
And know,
That,
I am,
God.
Am I?
Or am I just divine on your tongue?

I had a dream
It started with chapped lips and a chilling fog, that cut the skin like paper on a bad day.
Trees were huddled around me, like they were drawn to my fire.
I crackled words from my broken lips, whispering slightly
The wind caught my breath, and sent my words to the air.
I was lying on a stone altar, with a lake within my minds eye
Long dark pre-raphaelite hair lay languidly draped to my waist
I was covered in a white shroud that blessed me like armour run steel
Not one sound covered the ground
Not one person held my hand
Not one person could see through my eyes.
Without knowing, or conscious, I moved from the plinth to the ground
The hard cold familiar feeling of earth under my feet.
Grounded. Both feet on the ground.
Connected.
There were streams of sunlight filtering in the areas most men have not travelled.
It looked like a safe place to tread a wandering path.
No-one heard me travel across the path
No-one came to see me.
Trees swayed towards me, my protection from the sky, who was trying to capture my words.
I ran.
I ran, and I ran and I ran.
I looked for arms to hold me, and save me from the darkness.
I ran.
I felt my feet lift from the ground, each step a jump, hop and skip into freedom.
Freedom, through the sunlit passages of the forest.
Headed to the lake, I hid behind bark and branch.
I lifted my face to the sun.
It showed me the way through the trees.
I knelt at the shore and placed my fingers in the water, which lapped at my hand, hungrily.
I walked into the water, it lifted my shroud and my body.
I lay there. I lay there and heard the water whispering mantras in my ears.
And I lay and let the whole world see me, for what I am
And they looked and stood,
And I never felt so safe than in the ground, the air or the water.
Let water begin where ice had begun.
I am at one.

I sat
Across from the face of death,
He wasn't smiling,
He was tired and,
Frustrated.
His skin shone a pallor of crying,
And exhaustion,
And the irises of his eyes,
Held fear,
And trauma.
"Why?" He asked.
"I am not here, I replied.
I have tried, I have, tried so hard
I am not of this life,
I am not broken, but I am not fixed,
And I am ashamed to say,
Love is not real."
He took my hand, I could see
The bones of his fingers
Take mine.
He held up my fingernails,
Peering at the blood and the blisters,
And gently set them down.
His eyes took in my face,
An actors delight,
Some would say.
I could see he was confused,
I was not scared.
But then he stared in my soul,
And sighed.
I never once looked away,
But his eyes found it hard to find me
And his voice cracked, dry and weak,
"Wise choices come from hard decisions,
Strong people are made by tough experiences,
But,
I have seen more broken wings than I have bones,
More fallen tears than fallen leaves,
(Can I tell you about the leaves?)
More storms than calm seas,
(can I tell you about those sailors?)
And now I see you, more death than life.
I see black holes where there should be stars in your eyes,
No-one is born to survive hell alive,
And no-one is to die to feel free."
I sat uncomfortably, ashamed.
"No don't" he said.
"Many more than you die without warning,
This is your why."
"There is more," I replied,
"But I cannot give you more,
It's wasteful;
I do not hope on wishes hanging from stars,
I learnt that,
A long time ago,
That this hurts too much,
To much for me, anyways.
Existence is pain...
Who said that again?"
He then turned his head to the side,
He returned his hands
To his body.
"To die is not a negotiation,
Or resignation,
But it is a destiny,
What is yours?
Is now your destiny?  
I have seen too much,
And only those who sit with me,
Know they have to answer
That question."
"The only question I ponder,"
I replied,
"How many people will be at my funeral?"
He smiled and turned back to me,
"Then you already know,
What you need to do
Do not be jealous of the dying,
They have so much to live for,
It's the living who have to think,
Shall I see what happens?"
So I sat with death,
And I closed my eyes

There is an edge.
To me.
Where the lines meet the air, where I am a juxtaposition between the earth and the sky.
Where I am black or white,
Never grey.
There is an edge,
Folded in half, into quarters, into eighths,
Into infinity edges are folded
To fit, to puzzle, to contain
A box, a boat, a decision.
There is an edge,
There is the stopping point,
There is a long way down,
A line I cannot cross
A place I have dared to venture,
And died a thousand times.
There is an edge,
And here I sit on the precipice,
Here I contemplate the fall,
Contemplate the sky holding the air,
Sharp to the tongue, and whipped into the ears
Here is the edge
Where the mind and the heart,
Do not cross,
Multiple edges, of juxtaposition,
Of falling, of dying, of breaking,
Between the earth and the sky,
The black and the white,
The heart and the break.....
There is an edge,
Where I sit and contemplate,
The line between life and death,
The edge between safety and chaos,
Between fear and bliss.
There is an edge,
to me,
Where my edges met yours,
Where lines were crossed,
Where bliss met fear,
Where the edges of my heart,
Thawed,
Where my edges met yours,
Between the earth and the sky.
And I'm here on this edge,
And in tears I wonder why.

Never have I felt so devastated as how one person,
a man,
can treat someone,
a woman,
so violently;
in words,
by intended isolation,
by the very desecration of her womanhood,
by mirth of her infallibility,
by the devastation of her entire embodiment of life,
to be his 'perfect',
to be 'his'.
It is pretty clear that when 'NO' is screamed, from my lips,
it falls on deaf ears,
blind eyes can't see the fear in my face,
hard calloused hands can't feel my sensitive skin tremble and bruise.
What man cannot have,
the man will take what he wants anyway.
The Ego is a terrible, horrific, devastating manifestation of self, onto another.

There can be no greater love,

than letting go of all things we know as being love,

than letting go of everything we thought we knew,

about ourselves,

than letting go of our memories of love,

than letting go of what we are,  

and starting again.

Let love be, it will be what you form of it.

Let yourself be, you will be what you form of you.

Love yourself, and you will be the essence of what love, truly is.

Solitude begs to be near your empty cup of coffee,
on your nightstand.
There is a slight breeze in the air  i imagine and the park
nearby is filled with the trees and laughter of children.
Longing to be under your raggedy sheets,
laughing with you like children do at naughty words.
Believing that my bed is yours,
and your arm rests against mine, awaiting a touch.
I can smell toast burning and i wonder if i am having a stroke,
or whether its you making me breakfast,
in those grey pants i loathe and love so much.
I long for the nights and the days, and the days and the nights,
i long for us to make shadows on the wall,
by the lamp, under the sheets, and projected on the wall.
I want the neighbours to wonder if they should call the police,
and i can hear them now, discussing if someone is being attacked.
There is a glass of water on the floor, by some shoes you kicked off
as you got in, weary from work.
But i can smell you, can i not,
that tense musk from a hard days work,
the sweat of that longing you have,
for me in your eyes, and your heart, and your pants.
I can smell the autumn leaves falling, outside your window,
as i lay whilst you make me some tea,
I can hear a tap dripping in the distance and its annoying me
too much,
but i don't want to get up, because this bed is a bubble from which,
we can't escape, nor do we want to.
Your body is longing and your eyes are heavy with lust,
I can see that its right now, for us to be an us.
I see us talking through the dusk and the dawn about us, life and love,
and we make love inbetween the silent spaces where emotion is too much,
and we need our bodies and each other to ****** the metaphorical longing,
we both have.
And the waiting and wondering of who we are,
is here,
right now,
and all at once, my life seems small without you,
a picture a day doesn't cut it,
a letter from you is an extension of your hand,
but its still not here beside me.
I am in the shower, with the steam rising,
your body caresses the parts that have ached for you for so long,
I can smell shampoo and shaving cream,
I can see the cracks in the wall, and the dirt in the window frame,
and your arms cave round me, as i let the water fall down my face,
and all at once i am home, walking in the rain.
I see us holding hands like we are the only ones in the world,
that can be us, at that moment, and feel the time slip away from the day,
And i am smiling, because it has been so long since i smiled.
And i can smell chalk and clay, and mud and grass,
I grab your hair and pull you back,
so i can see your neck, and watch your artery pulsate in rabid anticipation,
i pull you down to my chest and let you hear,
how my heart beats, in exactly the same synchronisation.
And all my memories are gone and all there is, are thoughts of you,
as i sit here in my bed, wishing the pillow beside me was resting your head,
and, and.......
I count your freckles, and look at the tilt of your nose,
I examine your hands and your knuckles, and see how life has treated you.
I feel your legs brush against mine, in ****** friction, they electrify, me.
Music is playing somewhere, and i cannot concentrate on who i am,
or what i am doing, and why i am here,
and not there.
And its not about the *******, or the kissing, or the expanse of our **** bodies laying waste to the day,
it's about the blue skies, the fields, the sons, the trip to get food
for me to cook you a feast.
And i wear my hair up, and i wrap a towel around me,
and i look at myself in the mirror,
and say,
Goodnight sugar, i'll see you in the morning,
and i lay awake in the day and dream in the night,
and you are my essence of being longed for,
and I am yours, sugar, i am yours.

Within me,
I feel the dark sense of judgment in your eyes,
I can imagine your skin, tight and swept,
my favourite place, your jawline and curve of your shoulder to the chest,
the skin on your shoulders slightly wet with sweet sweat,
a prefect mix of beguile and guise.
And i know there is a demon to be unleashed,
from your throat and mouth.
I can sense in my *****, that you are overcome with an inner hell,
that only i can see,
without you even being here.
It's ok,
take me to your room,
tell me to undress slowly for you,
with your eyes drinking in slowly,
my delicate form, ready to be devoured.
Grab me by my throat,
pin me against the wall,
put your cheek against my neck,
and smell my longing.
Let me feel your pulse in your fingers as it holds my breathe,
I can feel your rage, your spit and your sweat.
**** me up a little, baby,
make me see heaven in a new light,
let me see that demon unleashed.
I can see your eyes, though they do not see me,
I am thankful in your good graces, to be in your hands.
Lead me to my knees, to kneel before your majestic form,
My man, my saviour, my light, my life's breath.
You can take me,
You can have me,
**** me a little, baby,
take your demon and give it to me,
Let me **** it out of you,
Let me take it within me,
Let me feel you deep inside of me.
Glistening with glorious sweat of luxury and finally,
mind-altering, freedom.
I smile.
Perfection in pulse, form, and feel.
Feeling your marks on me, your poison takes it grip,
I am exalted, I am life, I am awake, I am the tip of the iceberg.
Your eyes, without seeing, release me from your grip;
We're in a whole new world of trouble, baby,
and we're in the safest place we could ever be.
**** me up a little, baby.
So i can see, the look of love, in your beautiful, eyes.

I don't like to think,

But I can't help it,

That I would never love another, like I loved her.

But I do.

I see, you.
No I do.
See you.
Behind the masquerade and party face.
Beneath the dating facade,
There is a stairway that spirals to the depth,
Of your soul,
And you, led me, down it.
Though you didn't know I was there.
I found the locked door without a key.
I found the peeling wallpaper,
Where the damp, had set in, to rot.
I searched high and low for a way in to your sadness.
I pulled the wallpaper, bit by bit,
Still you didn't know I was there.
I stared through the keyhole til my shoulders grew old,
Still you didn't know I was there.
Slowly I began to fade,
Like gaslights turned down in a Victorian parlour room.
My skin peeled away by that doorway,
And I tried to match them to the wallpaper.
I grew thin for waiting to suckle on the marrow,
Of the very bones of you,
That sat behind that lock.
I sat at the door for a sound.
No key.
No lock existed anymore.
I was trapped.
Should I have adventured so far?
I drank you up, like you, you were, were water.
I became flooded in your presence,
And I became a drought in your absence.
I am found in your loss,
I am lost in your found.
Never have I been more warranted,
Than when that door was closed,
And you let me out to see the sunlight,
To visit, once in a while,
When it was permitable,
And I flung myself at the benches, the air,
The very sky.
And down here, the air is not clean,
The acrid hue of life, is marred by the poisonous wallpaper,
Of your very skin,
Inside, revolting, against you;
Because I tend to think,
Did I take these stairs?
Or did you lead me here?
Did you know I was the key?

Taken by my hand,
warped and aged with time,
rings and rings of life, ingrained beneath my skin,
you hold me with ease,
and, I unravel with gravity, falling apart.
I bend and lean with the wind,
a slight breeze from you,
is enough to shake me from the ground,
to the sky,
and everything is naked,
and everything is the truth,
and i stand here, before you,
as you hold an axe in your hands.
Ready to fell me,
and take me apart.
My roots are old,
my heart is protected with years of warped timber,
my heart is protected as peach pit,
my heart is protected with poison ivy.
Yet in the spring i blossom,
In the summer i shine bright as the very sun,
And in the autumn i renew myself,
ready to ride the winter's harsh code.
You take me within your grasp,
I am a cold wind,
I am a summers breeze;
I am the very essence of life within you,
within me.
As you come to me, and take me,
And take me apart,
I am ready to go,
I am ready to be burnt by the fire,
and become the earth again.
So come at me,
but be warned I stand tall,
and built strong,
but beneath the outer layers,
I am truly a phenomenal piece of work,
given from the universe,
to you.
Bring your axe,
Bring your rough hands,
Bring your words.
I am rejuvenated by you.

There is a man, who sits on the bench down the road. During the day.
He looks like there is a world he has seen, touched, tasted and felt, and dreamt to reality, but now he has, nothing and nothing to say.
His skin, is sagged and loose, there is a gullet of old age in his neck.
I turn my head away out of sheer respect.
There are tears in my eyes.
I want to hold his hand and ask him, 'What happened? Did you see her? Did.She.Leave? Do your children still call? Is there anything left of you here, anything at all?'
I sit here and weep and i wonder what he saw.
Whether i had seen it too, and done it and missed it, and missed it because of you?
My eyes they are tired.
More tired than my back or my pain.
They are tired from saving the day, and from walking in constant rain.
I picked out some bullets from old scars from way back when,
there were hit with some fine target practice of fine 'love' writing in the dark with the punch of a pen.
So i sit here, and i wonder if one day he will be me.
Wonder if he sat and wrote little dittys for a world, that he could not see,
for people he never met, for lovers who had up and gone, for those who had no story, no strength, no howl or battle song.
There is this old man, and he sits and he waits.
I want to ask him, Is there a future in this world that he awaits?
And i don't so i sit here and casually think of him awhile.
Before my mind turns to someone else, i can think of and love,
in my own spectacular, unique, philosophic, apathetic style.

I know you think,
you're drowning,
But I came to tell you,
Its only a puddle.
Stand up,
You're body needs better,
And your brain needs the oxygen.
Breathe....
Rise...
Weather the storm.

I am shylock,
In the attic barely used,
Barren exuberant floorboards creak in exhalation,
Of your footsteps.
There you find me,
In the dust;
A wooden trunk with brass fixings,
Didn't I tell you I held a million treasures?
You breathe in the sunlight,  
From the round attic window,
Preening itself in your vision basked in gold.
I am shylock,
You moved a gilded hand,
Guided by a unknown force of union with the lock,
The air is silent around you,
The room is intrepid in its wanton stranger,
Who dares to enter this chamber of dust.
I am shylock,
You take my fingertips from the cup of a hand I had placed gently on your cheek,
The night before I had told you,
Of this room,
You gently take my fingers and place it on the lock.
I am shylock,
There is a gentle click,
That soon awashes the abated room,
That sways into a tsunami of grandeur,
Of history, emotion, silence and tears,
And it consumes the dust,
The acrid air and essence of my fears settle on your eyes and the homely mouth.
I am shylock,
You know how I came about,
Now,
You know how this room became accustomed to the dust,
And the floorboards, the dust,
And the window, the dark,
You are breathing me,
The trunk is open and waiting,
And at the bottom,
A ragdoll awaits your palm,
Your strength, your gentleness and patience,
This is my shy,
This is my lock,
And you entered the room and consumed me.
Burst through the door, cut down the labyrinth,
and found me.
Picking me up,
You,
Became me, attended me, held me,
with grace sensitive to my touch,  
with the intention of a protector to my defence,
And the brazen warrior to my battle.
Now I am entered and countered.
Protected and put together,
Unbound and in your arms;
Now I am open and free.
My ragdoll, your love, and me.
Together, unlocked,
together I and you become, we.

I had a dream
It started with chapped lips and a chilling fog, that cut the skin like paper on a bad day.
Trees were huddled around me, like they were drawn to my fire.
I crackled words from my broken lips, whispering slightly
The wind caught my breath, and sent my words to the air.
I was lying on a stone altar, with a lake within my minds eye
Long dark pre-raphaelite hair lay languidly draped to my waist
I was covered in a white shroud that blessed me like armour cut steel
Not one sound covered the ground
Not one person held my hand
Not one person could see through my eyes.
Without knowing, or consciousness, I moved from the plinth to the ground
The hard cold familiar feeling of earth under my feet.
Welcoming my return.
Grounded. Both feet on the ground.
Connected.
There were streams of sunlight filtering in the areas most men have not travelled.
It looked like a safe place to tread a wandering path.
No-one heard me travel across the forest floor.
No-one came to see me.
Trees swayed towards me, my protection from the sky, who was trying to capture my words.
I ran.
I ran, and I ran and I ran.
I looked for arms to hold me, and save me from the darkness.
I ran.
I felt my feet lift from the ground, each step a jump, hop and skip into freedom.
Freedom, through the sunlit passages of the forest.
Headed to the lake, I hid behind bark and branch.
I lifted my face to the sun.
It showed me the way through the trees.
I knelt at the shore and placed my fingers in the water, which lapped at my hand, hungrily.
I walked into the water, it lifted my shroud and my body.
I lay there. I lay there and heard the water whispering mantras in my ears.
And I lay and let the whole world see me, for what I am
And they looked and stood,
And I never felt so safe than in the ground, the air or the water.
Let water begin where ice had begun.
I am at one.

There is blood in my mouth,
liquid steel from sharp words that are cut from my teeth and flicked out of my mouth by my tongue.
My throat is literally drowning from words my brain produces
but cannot stop from throwing forth;
my mind producing thoughts like a steam train on a new track.
Clickety, Clack. Clickety, Clack.
And i thought different,
of you.
But my teeth are bruised from speaking to you,
my air pushing from my lungs, to give me breath to speak to you,
is death and rotten, it is done with you,
and, me.
There is blood in my mouth,
it dries around my lips and cracks open
everytime i breathe.
Sometimes i wish you had just hit me with your words,
that the cartilage under my nose had cracked
from the force your words threw at me,
that there was a full outward combustion
and it ran down my face,
dripped off my chin and left the building.
My brain keeps thowing these punches,
left, right, under, left, dive, hook, run,
and i am losing this battle, that began a fight,
that i never began
that i never wanted in the first place,
but there is now blood in my mouth
And i need to mop this **** up
and start again...

She walks, her hand trails a memory behind, alone in a crowd with thoughts to be her friend, follows a path that never ends. Around and around, a way that seeks not to find, the truth. The truth? Fever burns beyond your eyes, embers are threatening to die out. When you scream and shout there’s no sound in your words. Held back by a tendril so soft and wary, umbilical in nature, empty in force. No force, no faith, no way. She wraps her hair around your mind, blinded you are by her night. Darkness follows the light. Light follows the day. Come what may.

All that I have left of you is half a cup of tea, more than a half an hour of your time. More than half a lifetime spent unwinding time, til it slips from your hand burning from your touch with thoughts about her. For where she touched your palm an imprint lies untamed. Forced by nature, the universe calls your name, taints your shame and holds your hand. Words unplanned. Words despite words. Movement in the air, tear and tear. Find the difference? She holds it there in her smile, beauty untouched for a while. Heavens are unknown to man, but women whisper in corners about paradise follied.

Her eye, they are not seen to be beheld. Watched as no-one sees. Who are you? Who are you? An explosion beneath my chest, rapid oceans cannot hold me down, I float, I float, I float away towards you. Gravity, grave in its subject, deep and shallow, two separate wheels turning in motion to the rhythm of my mind. Just a little bit of imagination is needed here. And I seek, I do not fear, your retribution is but a figment of my imagination. You will go, you will hide, you will fidget standing my side, my side. How you are oblivious to the jigsaw we are. I drain my drink and watch the stars.

You are pure imagination. You are wisdom made delight. I wish for sweet nothings, I wish for you by candlelight. I think of you and dance, I think of you and close my eyes, I think of you, I think of you. She lets me fly, and swoop and fall. Who am I to call on you? I feel you next to my skin, where do you begin, where do I end, who am I to pretend? A favourite memory to make, created with fortune misled. I think about you in my head. She will, she will follow and fade, a star to compare to the night. Will you lead me? A secret in her mouth, waiting to jump out, waiting to shout. Actions speak louder than words, and I never heard her speak

Stormy rain, stormy Eyes.
Look at me.
Wish you had of died.
A fairground trick, you never rang the hoop around.
The fairground ride,  you could see the nuts and bolts.
But still you whooped with me.
There was a time,
at the beginning of the line,
where you begged me for a kiss,
for a moment of bliss,
before the fear set in;
before the terror unfolded,
and i was screaming and opening my eyes,
and looking forward,
and never at you.
I smiled for the camera,
to capture the moment,
of unequivocal bliss, of falling and riding high again.
Still you swore you would hold my hand,
for whatever we had planned,
and when i let go,
you looked at those lines,
and realised,
boy, you're in this world alone,
to ride the ride,
with me by your side,
but alone in your seat;
So what is it?
Ultimate bliss,
or,
terror of self-defeat?




Just remember,
I was there,
just a hairtip away,
just a fingertip, from your fray,
when you start to unravel,
from me.


As we swoop,
as we fold,
as we argue through your childhood behaviour,
untold.


Line up, line up.
The ride is free.
The journey is finali-ty
when you are riding,
with me.

You know why poetry matters to me?
Do you think this is all you can see
that this skin and bone pertains to be,
this is mouth and voice and identity
and ego and consciousness, this is me?
Though i am fallible and i am naive,
and i wear my heart upon my sleeve.
There is more to me that my face and speech
There is more to me than you can even reach.
There is so much to hear from the works of Ghibran or Neruda,
Or Poe or Elliot, Dickinson, or Plath.
And words from poetry is like sinking into a hot bath,
its like a dance in warm rain,
its like standing in the middle of a hurracaine
My words are not easy to speak
so i spill them out on pages of white sheet,
and they are hurt, bruised and frustrated
and its mostly about people i have dated.
And I would like to thank my past for its hard work and dedication
thanks to you my suffering became, my inspiration
Poetry is an art, a placebo, a cure, that i can 'do'
for i don't need no pills or physical freedom when i am blue
I simply find a safe room inside my head
and sit and write as i cry my tears in my bed.
These words are majestic and dance a ballroom waltz and trot,
these words are shameful, and ***** and seriously ****** up 'for-me-not's.
This is My moment, this is My silence, My ****** fears
This My rapture, My beauty, My steadfast tears,
and all alone a page they are written for one and for all,
and i hope desperately you can feel them and hear their call.
They are unique and potent, and deadly and insane,
for a wrote them at times when i had loved in vain.
And i started writing to find a way out,
of my life, my hurt, to let me quietly scream and shout.
These words are my breath standing on a canyon side,
these words are my juice, my burn, my life, my ride.
This is my love, my pain, my heart, my song,
its everything i did right, and all i did wrong,
its the moon, and the stars, and its the world in a day,
and it helps me to forget, forgive, with words i can't say.
There is something inside me stronger than my voice
and poetry helps me when i don't have that choice.
It's like a firework wishes to explode and i can't contain the heat,
and there are bullets are forming in my layrnx,
and there is tidal wave coming from my feet.
It's my labyrinth, my misunderstanding, my heart-******-break
it's my reflection, my questions, my wrath and my poisonous (Garden of Eden) snake.
It is my wanton lust, my passion and my unbridled perfect sin
It is my partition, my isolation, my grief, my inconsolable twin.....
It's my everything i am not when i am on the outside,
It's everything i am, even those parts i can't hide
It's everything i am.
It's everything i am not.
But, poetry matters
It's the very part of me.

I'd like to tell you i love you,
tho i am not sure you would understand,
i missed you for a while and forever
i'd like to hold your hand
I'd like to tell you i love you
tho i am not sure what the words implie
I turned to you in the night
i turned to you with a laugh and a sigh
its not that i fear or i'm scared
Its not simplicity of words or emotion
and its not that by speaking the words
they would lose their quality and devotion
I'd like to tell you i love you
but really its not that i think you don't know
that regardless of who you are
you are already aware of how i love you so

I would like to think that by the age of 6, i would have turned deaf, from the hands being placed on my ears to escape bullets of words. Shattering around me, i wished to grow up. By the age of 8, i knew my place and, my place knew me. I lived in a minefield, during a war i had not realised was going on. I had unbroken bones which bled from the inside, my mind was torn in to a million pieces and at 10, i didn't know what childhood was, and wished i was alone.

By 16, I fell into a man, a man who's hand it took 2 years to gain from his mother, as she sat there smoking and drinking hot water with lemon to be diet thin. Trimmed the fat a bit when we both left the country, and he got a girl pregnant in India, with twins, which she later aborted; I was in Canada, and 18 when i wished i was blind.

I followed through, travelled the world, til i was 21, became a university student, a best friend, a lesbian, and went to a foreign country were you are forced to use your goodness to be a force of good, which no-one sees as good, but as a hand out, and i lost good friends and saw bad men lose theirs, at 21, I saw the world and i was i was emotionally devoid in a climate of acclaimed peace.

By 26 i was a mother, uncontrollable love and grief flowed through me, like rain is dissolved by the streams in the hills. I picked up my smiling, beautiful child, which had became my night, noon, morning and day, and i wished i could repair the tear within my soul, to encompass all the love i had for my son; and the tear remained patched up with sellotape; I wished I had been a better child.

I lost all consciousness from 27 til 28, love turned to hate, i lost my love, and picked up a young one, if only she was to physically show me what my ex had not been telling me all along; what my ex boyfriends mother made me feel for 2 years, and the way my father left, whilst my mother was pulling me up the stairs, by my hair. At 28 I realised i had made the wrong decision.

From 28, here on out the wind blew, and it blew down to the valleys, and there i found the love of my life. We found and created an indestructible friendship and love, the first only and ever to support me and our goals, she helped me stand up to my father; who then ended our own father/daughter relationship. And not 3 months shy later, when myself and my son mouthed our love and said goodbye. We returned to an empty house. I sacrificed my grief for a small boy who cried for a non-existent person. At 29 my heart was destroyed in a slow burning bonfire.

I replaced the love with the lost, and gladly filled up my tank with lost souls of lost girls, who had lost their souls from some other lost soul, and so the cycle becomes fully reborn. I became someone i knew not of. I had a best friend, who i solely loved because she was the vat of hope i desperately needed in the darkest hour, my biggest cheerleader and my ***** compadre. I remember at 29 celebrating a birthday with 2 friends, and looking at the stars and thinking, is this the meaning of my existence? I remember feeling like the winds were about to change.

30. I had moved house, abandoned my son and old life, for a new job, for new money. I sunk like the titanic who did not see the epic gigantic proportion of iceberg that was about hit the ******* fan. I lost the best friend. Slowly through another relationship did i gleam a sensation of love. It was love, but it was demanding and childish, and i pushed her away before she even asked me to be hers;  in i might add one of the most romantic pursuits ever. She became my sons best friend, my dancing partner, she loved me so very very much, and i hated her for it, i hated her so much for loving me, because i was rightly wrong and she was wrongly right. I just turned 31, and she walked out over an argument over bike helmet. I realised, i was a product of my over endless pursuit of love perfect.

At 32, i am single, broke my back at work, i was then dismissed by that work, moved house, began recovery, had a car accident and here i am beginning again. Yet i am in love now with a man, something i have struggled with for a year, i am at my most humble, deep, profound, sense of being in love, without reciprocation than i have even been, and why........?

Well....

When i was 16 i wanted to be 30, i wanted my life to be over. I wanted the dead years to pass. I wanted the hard work to be gone and done. Not because i didn't want to live, but because i had lived so hard before i was 16, that anything else seemed to exhausting for words to even begin to create.

Except i lived it.
I learnt that love is not words, love is words.
Love is the words of your favourite song, emblazoned on a 8ft wall, that you come home to, and see as a surprise.
Love is someone letting you read your book.
Love is not the voice, the meaning, the tone, the perception or allegorical meaning.
Love is not the abuse, the abuser, their demons, their guilt or their silence.
Love is the unspoken word, the deep stare, the knowing glance, a tender reassurance, that this is ok.
Love is your hand holding mine. N.B Handholding is underrated.
Love is not possession, greed, want or desire. They are not yours, you are not theirs.
Love is invisible, yes it is, red balloons don't mean **** on one day a year.
Love is not perfect, but imperfect.
Love is ruthless, and cut-throat.
Love will burn you to the very last core of your being because you cannot contain its power.
Love is not lies, deceit, untruths, stories told to the naieve because you cannot be a lover and have to be a storyteller.
Love is truth, truth that so bitterly hurts, that you want to be porcelain and break into a million pieces, from the chest .
Love is walking, talking, and laughing, always laughing; love is a smile on a face.
Love is hard, and intolerable, it is passionate, and persistent and it is consistent. It does not break, it is not flimsly like a kite in a storm.
Love does not take offence to personal battles and rebukes of deadly warfare.
Love does not change its mind, be unsure, lack responsbility, or drinks you dry, til you are dried out and up.
Love is not ***, love is not lust, lust is not 'go on, you know you want to', love is not sorry in the morning.
Love is not the ***** all night *** sessions that keep the neighbours awake, but it is in the glory of two bodies where love can be found.
Love condemns. Love is a silent recommendation from Disney, Cathy and Heathcliffe, and Ring of BrightWater.
Love is a minefield and a forbidden playground; it is a secret garden and a theme park.
Love is not alone, and it is not together; it is not your children, or your childrens, children; It is within them and without them.
Love is not to be found on the praying may, in the clouds, in a the pew, or in the incense.
Love cries, love wails, love beats at your very chest, love is in death, love is in the birth.
Love.
Love.
Aaah, hmmm, Love, is an indeterminable force, by which, because of its very nature, no-one can define by logic, except that they will, because, what they cannot understand, they use perception of their blinded sight, deaf ears, and lost senses to put into words, something their heart cannot.
You have everything and you have no-one.
You have reason and you have none to be afraid of.
You are your past, and unfortunately, you are not.
You are your damage, your hurt and your pain, and hardest, your own responsibility.
You are worthy, and you are worthless, you have been shamed and you have been glorified.
You are your own future, your own today, and the yesterday.
And despite all the crap ******* memes,
Love is you, and you are love.

By 32, i had learnt to love myself. Inbetween the grieving, there is a silent knowledge, that by 32 i am in love, with myself.

*I wrote this as a very open outpouring of grief i am currently going through, and also an open realisation of the love within and for myself. It is one of my most open and explicit short stories of my life, and even within that there is lots that has not been recognised, because it has been shortened and reconsidered somewhere else. Thank you

I don’t tell you I love you to let you know I care. I don’t love you because of why you think I love you. I know you would be too scared. I wait, wanton, wanting and wasted. My morals are misconstrued. You play like a bad memory in my background. An old time movie I wish had never been made. I came, I saw, I fell over. We all dream out of nothing of life we cannot but dare to dream. Who am i? Is this something you endeavour to understand? Everything is ok, no? My love, my heart, its splintered, its fragmented. And you stand there watching the wall, waiting for me to say the right words.

I feel, free. I can look without waiting for a reply. Do not go so far, that I cannot see, you. All this for no picture. We just have to remember it. You will have to remember this always. That we made this journey. For no-one, for nothing, for no end, we made this journey. And all of you, this entirety, I will miss, all of you. I have learned to love you, I have learnt, in this house, in this mind, in this heart, that I have given you the right to live and dwell. You are not written in a book. Though I wish you were. I am not a blanket, I am not a regret. I am the one you will never love without, the one whose love you will always, always, always without question, doubt.

For the one person who gave me everything for every time I needed your time. I do not see your horizon. I do not see your end. I do not see your time twist and bend. I want you to take me down back streets, in perfumed alleys of life I can call my Home. You are not wanted except by me. I am your sultan, your majesty, your majestic, forever. Will I know this, but once? Will I know what the sunlight feels when it caresses your cheek, the way your heart feels when that, that very fecking music plays; I very much doubt this. I do not, Trust. I do not, Trust, your fall. I do not, I do not at all.

Forever. And ever. And ever. I remember once when the car broke down, it somehow made us closer and I really wonder now, above all else, why? You are not the music in me, I know I can fall and you are not there. There is such a tragedy in love, to know your heart rests in someone else’s palm , fragile as a fragment of air, ready to be encompassed, suffocated by the fists that very much bound them. Do I love you, because you love me? Do I follow because that’s the only way I can see? You took me all, dragged me through the dirt. And now who is left, but me, with a memory of disgust and hurt.
I am not here, I do not lie here...

I didn't expect such an eloquent piece of work to slip from your mouth,
An amazing set of words put together as intricate an atom bomb,
Or as an improvised explosive device, so i see,
Thus I must be careful where i tread my glass slippered feet,
and be aware of what breath of words expels from my lips.

I never expected such a skill set of destruction and warfare,
From a beautiful mouth, so deceptive, that it almost seems,
you are an undercover lover,
both beneath the sheets, and between distinguished conversations,
regarding such tentative ideals of love and the ambiguity of trust.

A terrorist it seems amongst the ranks with a finger on the trigger,
with a finger on my lips, and a whisper hush in my ear.
It seems i was blind to your type of sweet deception;
There are codes i didn't understand, and my mind was melting,
from the heat of your touch and the sublime twist of your hips.

I can see your eyes ready to deploy a subterfuge of promises,
as they look into the distance calculating the logistics,
of this moonlight illicit flit of passion;
Never did i expect such an eloquent transpose of intentions,
Even remarkably as this feels like the Romeo and Juliette of modern times.

I am the 'x marks the spot' in no-mans-land it seems,
I am the calm after the storm in the aftermath of your expostulation,
You, my love, are a sublime soldier in this battlefield we call 'togetherness'.
No-one asked you to go to this infernal devastating war;
Yet i long for your return from the eternal, internal battle,
you fight between your heart and your head.

Don't try to steal me
i am not one to be taken lightly
I do not walk on the same treads as you
you left your mark by your scuffed heels
and your baggy jeans
I'm not preoccupied with thoughts of you
and yet you try to steal my time
you lost this fight long ago
I was already down and out
lying on the floor
Crawling throught the night
you creep with sincerity
you dare not speak a whisper
because you know my ears are deaf to you
but still you come to take my thoughts
with a lock and key
Don't try to take what is not yours
I give when i need to
I relinquish when it is due
and all of these things you think of me
its not me, your thoughts belong to you
A thief in the night
you are blinded by the sun
you cannot see the words i speak
yet,
still,
with bated breath
and silenced voice
you tend to your garden like a tinker to a tailor
you reap what you sow
and i was never beneath your fingers

I have a thirst for, you.
I cannot seem to find the quench,
In the sweet delicious drip of your words,
From your mind to your fingers,
to my eyes to my insides.
There is so much to taste,
And, still, I want more.
Leaving me alive and famished,
You are the one,
I cannot drink enough of.
They say you cannot live without water,
Thus,
I cannot live, without you.

It's like your fingertips,
turned into lips and every sweet caress,
would transfer words of passion
through my skin.
Every time, i felt your spirit pour into me,
it was like i had found a new religion,
and you were my place of worship,
and our hands were the worshippers.
It's ok to watch the stars and wonder,
who they're shooting at,
for how could such a burning wish
fall so silently through the sky
and never land at my front door.
So as i lie here and i know there is time,
and that time will come,
i know that time is fleeting and forthcoming,
with the words you led into my mouth
through sweet rough kisses,
that want to tell me,
that we have all the time in the world.
To think that feelings could take on,
such an amazing allegory of stars,
rushing through my bloodstream,
as you lie with me, in a broken bed,
and i wonder if i should learn from,
my, previous, mistakes -
but stars burn brightly,
and only for such a short time,
so i took your mouth and made it holy,
and held your prophetic words in my throat,
grasped your fingers to count our congregation
who witnessed the sheen of our skin.
Seeing is believing some would say,
but
faith is taking tongues and carving words into crevices,
that even black holes wouldn't dare,
to challenge.
So take your fingers and draw on my skin,
and make me shine for you,
and we'll speak only words you can understand,
and pour, into me,
a soliloquy,
a mounting crescendo,
of bursting, burning, bright, exploding stars....

I feel the cost of this illusion, the blow of those soft words to my very delusion. As you sat and drank coffee whilst I drank tea, I should’ve known I was terrified by the words you had written in the steam. I could see the turn of your mouth as we sat talking about nothing and I became hypnotised by the bruises they left on the air. I wanted to follow you but I can’t explain what you meant, or what I understood. Maybe you have forgotten I am here, did you make me disappear? Make me someone I was not. Made me realise I was just a hand to hold, to make you more bold. You were someone I looked at when I was asleep, realising that I had fallen too deep, into something I was presupposed to drown, from. You were the boy from the right side of town. You were the man, the boy I understood. Once.

Somewhat I remembered what I had been told, that men like you were too young to grow old. That your heart and your head where at war with each other, that you despised your father and hated your mother. Too long had I spent waiting on the front line, for you, to being, to tell me when the time. Was right. Which was right, what was wrong? Who was I in your song, the chorus, the verse, who was i? But your first...mmm the way you make me think, nor the way to feel. Some old time girl, some old time reel. Some laughter, some silence, some hurt in the air; never the one to turn down a party or worse to hear my stare. I was the girl against the wall, never too young, never too tall, never to say boo, or worse to say no. To you.

Turning curtains with the morning, the sunlight stayed all night. The wonder of ***** and the brilliant taste of light. I can taste the sweet lament in your skin; I can taste the beauty within. I can taste the disgust on your sweat as it reeks havoc on my mouth. The star you stand on holds less weight than before; you are thinking of leaving, thinking of the slam of the door. And my words have no breath, no effect on your eyes, and you leave in the morning smelling of your despise. I raise my hand to my head, my level to yours, I thought I had read your mind and opened your doors. This circus of fear, moral panic of hours, I was right about you, I knew you didn’t want flowers.

I was holding your hand once, I felt soft and right. The jigsaw puzzle I started, ended that night. No more with the wine, no more with the fat; I chewed and chewed, but enough, of that. I’m glad to feel this pain in my chest, I thought it could be something else. Some futile promise you made one day, you watched me cry, then I walked away. The addictive pain and passion rises within my chest, my mind is racing my head can’t rest. There are things I need to say to you, but I lost the train of thought, you attacked me with my own words. You were written on the back of my hand, to remind me of what I had to do. An ink stain, is what I put it down to.

Again strangled.
I feel,what should be life's blood,
Dripping from my neck.
Where you kissed, so easily.
Words unspoken, yet so vain.
So usurped from my meaning;
So ridiculous I should feel  like this, at my age.
My adage, my head held high, I fall at my feet.
You should call this a reckoning?
I call this, your surrender,
For you could help not but be bound by your emotions,
And you know as bountiful as they are,
I am devastatingly beautiful, by your very touch.
So very disguised by your interment,
Than your face.
It is clear however, that you are after,
Something I have worked so hard for.
I do not mask myself from you,
Though, the tape becomes opaque after your words.
You're not going nowhere my dear,
You know I have more than you to, give.
Go now,  give face to some other demon,
Who reflects your very face.

I need you to sit the **** down.
Sit down and don't ******* move from that spot, until i give you permission to go.
You have attached yourself to me, i created you, i manifested you into some sort of greatness;
now you wrap around me, in me and outside of me.
You permeate my heart, my lungs, my tears, my thoughts and my tongue.
You encapsulate the deep space inside myself; You sit in my mind as if it is your home.
You make my world a bubble of a vacumn.
I cannot see to reason, or hear to clarify.
You have surrounded me on all sides, you have become my ev-er-y-thing.
Making me blind, insane and lost. I need you, yet despise you.
I gargle nonsense, dawn til ******* night; where when i sleep we are together, you and I.
And in my dreams you say 'yes i wanted you from the very beginning'.
You tell me you love me
You tell me i am the one
And we **** like two beasts with bare backs in the moonlight.
Till i awake and there you are, so far, yet sitting on my left shoulder whispering sweet nothings.
I have lost all concept of respect.
I have lost all concept of friendship, promises and attachment.
I have de-tached myself from life itself; as if a sticky black tar has crept from the earth and moved in to my body.
You are absolutely alien to me; yet i created you.
You are my reality denied; fantasy accepted.
You need to see that i will **** others, who will not be you, yet they will become you.
And you let me cry after, because of the fear i cheated on the very nature of you, in the instance that you, care-d.
You need to sit, back, *******, down, on that chair.
This is my time.
I need to breathe and not breathe you.
I need to feel and not feel you.
I need to stand up on my own two feet without you pulling me up.
I need to believe in my internal voice, not your manipulation of my words
You who i ******* created, I love you, you know that?
I *******, love, you.
I love every piece of you within my skin, for you are in my veins and i can't pull you out....
But you need to sit down, sit in that ******* place i made for you.
Because this is me and my time
This is me, and not you
And as i gave all of me to you
You took nothing, no less than i offered.
You beautiful, amazing, masterpiece of a God, who resides within the very clavicles of my heart.
I need you, to sit, down.
Give me a chance to do this alone, please,
for i will leave you there,
Until your time is up.

To be so in love with life,
With you, and then the only You;
Love is to die,
I grieve,
Only to find rebirth,
In learning, I died for, Love,

Within you,
My love, becomes immortalized,
And becomes the unwavering flame of remembrance,
And repentance,
Of the battles I fight, and fought,
And die/d,
for,
Your love.

And still I soldier on.
For,
To die for your love,
Is the most majestic honourable death,
I could ever imagine and crave.

Honey liquor. the sweetest taste on my lips,
to fall down to the inner sanctum, and rest,
beneath my chest in a silent humming desire.
I feel your breath across my teeth, as it takes in my edges,
the curved outline of my body, plays with the candlelight,
that was so sweetly lit for this moment.
In a flash, like a 1950's photography picture,
the want, turns to rage, to abandonment of what lays before you,
I lay before you.
You breathe me in.
You take me in.
You leave my skin with goosepimples, and i am not cold.
I want to roar, but i am lost with out my mouth,
as you hold it in fearful gaze that I might just breathe,
you, in.
You following my veins from my neck to my wrists,
you count the beats of my blood, with your ears,
pinned back, with your teeth white and sharp,
feared by the candlelight, they do not move, like my body.
I writhe and sink below you,
your hand is on my wrist, and my arm is locked behind me,
I am pinned,
I am put upon,
and yet, i have nowhere to go, but my mind is running from you.
I wait for you to take me,
an indeterminate amount of time passes as i look at you,
with your eyes closed,
taking your time, with your lips pursed and your chin turned,
just so.
And i feel the liquor burn within my chest,
it drips down each breast and across my navel,
as you nip the scant flesh of my inner thighs.
It is quick, it is swift,
the breath i held is exhaled through an open mouth,
a silent howl in a wood-less room,
and a den has been made.
I am not here anymore,
I am within you, as you are within me.
I am breathe, as you are the air.
There is suffocation as i come too quickly and i can't control my mouth;
It utters words in religious overtones;
'Let this be my Sanctum, OH, MY GOD'.
I am fixated by the sight of you,
my body breaks into a millions pieces and dances through the languid,
heaving sweat of the dormant room;
I watch my fingertips pass me by,
I can no longer see your face,
You have braced me for the final *******,
The Ultimate Fix.
And my legs crumple as quickly as your body does.
You are silent in your respite in having me,
there is no tangible evidence of love having taken place.
And sweet honey liquor burns at the back of my throat,
as i exhale and howl to the room, the air, the woods;
for in the space between the light there lies within some air.
To love a wolf, one must have to fight,
to love a wolf, one must have to forsake all,
and be reborn anew and to cry.
For to love you, you have to take me.
And i will drink the sweet liquor,
and retreat to the sanctum within, with a smile on my face,
a burning in my chest, and a tear in my eye.
For to love a wolf, one must be willing to die.

I have blue eyes and racerback vest

a swallow and black heart tattooed on my chest

a girl in black jeans, and a pierced tongue,

reminds me of a time when i was young

listening to music i know i can never play

because i wasn't built that way

i like takin pictures of my friends and their moves

i like to dance to music in any groove

i wanted it all, now its all right here

and i can expect the unknown without any fear

i am nothing without her there

and my eyes i can feel begin to tear

she is my edge, the one i jump upon

(she is my feelin, the whisper in my ****** song)

and i thought better, i thought i had a clue

no, *******, i knew better than you

i told her straight, she is my all

she txt me back, when will you call?

and i thought, jeez, i am founded, i am gently aground

i am not shipwrecked i am now a new sound

and i write these words because i wanted you all to know

that you have watched me burn, reap and sow

and now i have no words that mean more than i love her

thoughts are colours, my speech a blur

and thinking is not the same

i laugh a lot, i have no shame

we danced on the bed and made love on the table

she is my foundation, my east wing gable

flowers fall where before grew a ****

she talked to me and planted a seed

and i was not scared i am now more stronger than ever

i can face my demons whatever the weather

prouder than **** i am of being with this girl

and she is my life, she is my world

i have a skull tattooed on my back and my hip

and secret swirl which a trace with my finger tip

i am found i am now found, i tell thee

i thought i was before but i was still marooned in the sea

so is it real, this?

no its a mother ******* starblazer of a good triple forever sequel

she is mine forever, transformers in disguise

fix up, look smart

come see me baby and tell me a story

like you did the night you held me till i fell asleep

i love you, i, love, you......