you used to puff steam
I used to puff joints
when that was cool
we'd sit beside you,
I used to love you as much
as my useless boyfriend
now you're both gone
and I sit in your shadow
and listen to my CDs
"get out, stand back
if you don't let go -
you're gonna break me"
I'm so sorry
you're all burnt up
blue is copper
you are a frame
I can't ever tell
if that means you want
someone to build you up again
or if you just want
torn all the way down
the hell with it
I can't ever tell

it’s a dream
under cities’
block bricks
a small house
like canvas
squats cut out,
array of colour
not black
or grey, or white,
is tangerines
and strawberries
paper works,
also a ribbon
picket fence
take a stick to
beat of a ribcage
diagnose blame
too memorable
no serious future
says this dream
it’s a lucid one.

Love is like a building

If one's love starts strong,

It's foundation will be strong.

Love is like a building

Many people enter your lives,

Some who can destroy your love.

Yet you stand strong.

Love is like a building

When it gets old,

It starts to weaken,

But if maintained,

Stays strong.

Love is like a building

When it is neglected,

It starts to crumble.

So the building becomes weaker

Love is like a building

When it is weak,

It starts to fall apart

And when the foundation collapses

It is destroyed,

Leaving nothing...

But memories.

They say, in the city of dreams
We only look towards the sea in the west,
The open, the surreal emptiness
amidst all the concrete realities.

The waves recede to only come back stronger
As if they are listening to our voices,
While colliding against all that is brick and mortar,
Spraying the fruit of a wasted effort,
On the children of the promenade

The bricks are here to stay, and so is the sea
Both in mutual agreement to not harbour
Any more than what they can take

How many bridges can you build,
How many places can you see.
The more bridges you build.
The less bridges you burn.
The more you do.
The less you know.

Sky's caged in bars of wire
But my God, it's still so
Beautiful.

Slumped against a city wall
In this ghost I call a
Home

Moldy bricks and jagged cracks
And gasoline rainbows
And construction orange
Mottling all the grey.

Keep writing, she thought;
Keep writing and eventually
You'll find something
Beautiful

Derelict, decrepit,
Just a waste of space
A relic from a different age
One who'd run the race

An eyesore
Gives the place a name
Represents a time long past
It's no longer in the game

A stiff wind would take it down
It's not worth a single dime
Take it down, demolish it
It's enemy is time

A single pane of glass is left
Cracked from side to side
In fact it's cracked the whole way through
As tall as it is wide

The others are all boarded
Keeping out nothing at all
The only thing the wood does
Is act as canvas to them all

Graffiti covers every space
That is left standing here
It used to be a factory once
That made a local well known beer

BUT ON THE OTHER SIDE....

Inside the building squatters sit
Derelicts, wastes of space
The building is their home for now
Away from the rat race

Eyesores, hidden in plain sight
Humanity at it's worst
That is the image given them
Because of addictions thirst

A stiff wind would take them down
So thin and frail are they
Protected by a building that
A storm could blow away

One side thinks it awful
The other, thinks it's good
An eyesore and a fragile shell
Of old bricks and glass and wood

But...for one plain window
Separating worlds apart
A crack runs through the window
It is the buildings heart.

Oh the allure
of myself
here I am standing
along side
open windows
into the world
so that I become
like a moving painting
to those bystanders
looking
but there is no one
so I stand
and forget
I cry
and I dance
I am a moving piece of artwork
to the bystanders looking
but there is nobody
so that I become consumed
by my own mind,
hrowing and heaving
dancing and crying
so that I am a moving piece of artwork
to the one person
staring
when they stare I do not know
but I am aware that they look
otherwise I wouldn't feel so
ashamed
to be a moving piece of artwork
to the bystanders.