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Robert Kirwan Jun 2011
There’s a girl lying next to you with a famine in her brain
Controlling the passage all the way through to her veins
Slender and slight, tender and tight
The same tracks played both your arms.

Collapsed veins and your little sister
Laid out on your foil platter
Collapse her world into the torment
See it dissolve in clear water
Boom bang!
The desperate addict was she.

Feel the pop you know she’*****
Now she’s to the land of the nod
Clutching the poppy seed waste
When you’ve got smack, who needs god?
A world without reason, no conscience of treason
Contented to the same clouded dreams
Feed her the brown sugar; watch her forget her mother
Not a life falling apart at the seams
It’s going to keep her hanging on (or so it seems)

A 6 inch buckled belt, wrap it tight ‘round
Black leather, white marks, nothing felt
Shoot it on up, syringe full of brown
A ritual to the mind, counsel to the crown

Sink a needle in, red marks the spot
Take a deep breath, purple means you stop
Tease the blood’s arm, plunge it back down
A swirling mass gone, counsel to the crown
Any criticisms and reactions are encouraged.
Robert Kirwan Mar 2011
I have a gaping                hole              in my heart
From where I hung it on your hook.
It’s still ******
                                 And wet
                                         With flesh.
You let me be leave I could be led
Across the border, in disorder
I’d gasp, hanging from your clasp
Still keeping your heart warm from the storm.
But the days were numbered, no time for slumber
I’d count them out, front and back
So then, when summer came; so long so clear.
Realising my fear
You hid your mischief from the sun
In the closet, behind your gun
I hung, on your nook, beside a cranny
Looking for a way to end this

                                                           ­           Neglected,
             ­           U       n        u        s        e        d
Fur coats of lies signal our demise
A Faux-pas of deceit you can never disguise
My wound may need stitches
But I’ll cut from you, the strings
To show, to you, the scar.
Robert Kirwan Jan 2011
I’ve preached this practice
To its last final straw

I’ve hired the time
The strongest of clocks

You’ve endeavoured too
It’s never true when you do

I’ve attempted them all
The mightiest of guns

You never did let me enter
Probably knew I’d hide out

Causation; I know it’s you
To Induce; I flail barely flickering

I divide you into parts
But your logic seems boundless

I will continue to bloom
Even after your harvest.
Robert Kirwan Dec 2010
Thin believing
I danced my deaths and dined my desires
Frightened clues
A love perhaps, strangely motionless
Hearts soiled the arrogance
Cascade thee
Gold army, glass clouds
I muse in vivid tapestry
One dream is and was awake
Everything frozen; exist lake
Meet woven conversation
I washed her light
My finger made lies
Textures disguise
And I perhaps love
Robert Kirwan Nov 2010
“Hold me in your arms”
You scream at me from those powder blue eyes.
But I can’t look at you,
I’m too scared to acknowledge your obviousness
In this subtle world closing ‘round us three.

Mankind only began with Adam and Eve,
There was no Johnny.
Yet the apples, in our world, are almost ripe
And for the picking.
And it was only ever going to be Eve who’d take the first bite,
Even if Adam and Johnny both ignored what they both knew it meant,
Sending their world crashing among rolls of thunder
And daggers of lightning
Leaving just two and one out in the cold.

In spite
You could never make right, only wrong
In a world you never wanted
To leave
Life’s unsolved theorems

We all heard you on the ‘phone to your Father,
Reassuring him it’s everything’s ok,
Even if the world he gave you is not how he planned;
That everyone makes mistakes.

And maybe that’s why Eve bit into that apple,
So she could get out of this world and into another.

Or maybe it’s because even rolls of thunder and lightning are comforting,
When your holed up inside and can’t get out.
Knowing your safe from secret thoughts,
Seen only through windows of weakness.

Or maybe it should be taken for face value
And Eve only wanted the apple
Because as she said,
It was juicy and tender
And it was too hot
To turn down.
Robert Kirwan Sep 2010
The first slow,
Scraping turn
Of metallic lid
Atop ‘f my silver-stained
Hip flask
Gives way to smell of hard liquor
And sweaty palm.
It is the most eagerly anticipated
Seven seconds of each of my twenty-four hour days.
Whiskey was cheapest today,
And always preferred.
As often is the case,
The lid was harder ******* on
With shaking hand
And blood scourged cheek
Telling everyone
I missed my world.
Robert Kirwan Aug 2010
I waited for you Tuesday,
Wednesday came.
I realised I was cold and blind,
And I began to see again.
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