breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.

Aside from baby-blue ribbon and no Meyhews
opposite Joneses
I want to invite all our exes and give
them their own table
They can have the duck a la orange
but go sparing on the Brut,
especially him at 4b, he's a drinker
but you remember
finding me panda-eyed and hot
with stitched-up pride
spilling drinks and not
apologising but you knew I was sorry anyway and
walked me home
though it was light
Perhaps she will soothe his narcissism
and her apartment needs anyone
to check dark corners for
black eyes and crooked hands.
But I'm not afraid I'll
pull them from their cobwebs
leg by nasty leg
as long as we can see the flies
and pick them off together.

kiss me in your backseat
like nothing has ever been like this before
'cause you kiss like a promise
like you have never wanted anything more
than me

and just maybe, i'm crazy about you baby
and i guess it's a mess but i've always loved messy
things

and with your lips on my neck, i feel like the best is yet to come
and with my heart on my sleeve, i hope you can see it beats like a drum

and i'm wrapped around your finger and my gaze might just linger on your face
and i can't help but notice what we've made of this moment in this place

is beautiful
you're beautiful.

in the streetlights, with your brown eyes looking into my heart
hold me tighter, with your bright lights lighting up the dark
you're lighting up

Remember that old uphill trail
We used to meander along
With matching footsteps
Under the sunlit canopy of leaves
Carving words for each other
On the bark of aged trees
Who may have known
what would become of us
But nevertheless smiled
acted as a blank canvas instead
And watched the moments
Filled with playful laughter
Peachy smiles
Lingering gaze
Warm caress
Unfold lazily between us
The winds of time
May have blown us miles apart
Our footprints may have long eroded
That sunlit canopy may have withered
And we may walk that trail
Only in our dreams
But those words are yet to fade
they were the voice of our soul
Etched into the lap of nature
And as I run my fingers along its rugged edges
I reminisce about you
And hope that wherever you are
You are thinking about me too

As it's different, when you're weaned
on the stinging foam on chins and hair
Hearing the sighs of the sea when
you fall and no-one's there
as if to say, I'm here, but I won't help!
You dash stones in rage
that she simply swallows
and thanks you for with a
particularly ungrateful wave.
Spiders in bright buckets,
***** in between toes in rock pools
a dog-**** buried in the sand.
Worst, are the bat-eyed gulls
swooping on candy you
guarded from bigger kids
but no-one hides from gulls
and sweeping swallow a bag whole
one gulp, unremorseful,
one eye, always watching
stoney, black.

So now, I am older and
we are sun-bathing,
or rather, you are stretched out glossy
and smiling like a good haul
where I pick sand from my belly button
and shade my iPad from the sun.
I see two gulls, eyeing up your Pimms
cocking their heads in angular decision,
I offer them some Smoked Salmon,
they ******, you shout which
spooks the birds who fly
away, yet together, gliding parallel.
You storm away, stamping sand in
drinks and electrics alike
but I am anchored here
watching the gulls flying duo
tied from their throats
and then their stomachs.
The more they want to pull away,
their bodies pull them closer

skeins spiral above coffee
where the screen remains unsewn and
blank as the seawater that
day before you flung stones and
disrupted the smoothness of my stomach
sending concentric voices
whispering to the shore where
tongues in conch shells
lapping say they won't be here long
we can break but we will not move
and I don't know how to tell you
that these letters we crochet
and stuff down wires with blunt pins
may stitch holes fraying in our hearts
but cannot knit a staff
that can part the sea