The first days of fall are always warmer than I remember. It just takes one cold morning to make me want the glare back. Now I'm looking for any reason to go outside before dusk begins to swallow afternoons. I'm checking the mail on a Sunday. I'm carrying a broken lamp to the shed. I don't miss July and its quite seethe. I miss the beginning. I miss not knowing when it would end. It's a slice of sponge cake, a half-erased underline left behind in a book that I can't put down. I'll go inside and read it until the pages begin to curl. My nails were made for digging into palms. I only ever want to stay when I know it's time to go.

such a heavenly taste it has,
the softness of the intentions so inviting and warm.
I feel you smile against me,
oh how the sun will shine on this moment in my memory.

vastly different from when a kiss isn’t just a kiss...
such a hellish taste it has,
the roughness only being soothed in passing by spit.
your hands are daggers against my hips,
oh the poison of expecting more when you didn’t ask.

Music is like a desperate plea,
to slip back into a feeling far away.
Clawing back a forgotten dream.  
As the song fades, the memory fades.
Those Sunday morning's slip away.

Music is the only element
known to break me down,
and remind me of who I want to be.
As I sit here alone, weeping for what I cannot touch
Lost at sea, the somber serenade of time
Washes over me..

Music slips through my fingers like grains of sand,
A finite youth warm in my hands
Taken by the winds to where it needs to be.
The night in it's wisdom, lets me breathe.
A single note travels through my sleep.
The sorrow of this note unbroken, brings me peace.

Curry Crisps
In 1981 and 82 at Littlemoor School I was in Junior 4
With the rest of the little wankers who were my classmates
I used to buy curry flavoured crisps for 10p at break time
I got them every day and even now miss them  
They were the best crisps I ever tasted so yummy!
In a curry coloured packet oh what’s to come!
They were the highlight of my time in that school
Where I went from the bottom of the class to the top
England defeated Argentina in the Falkland’s War
I destroyed a school bully in the bogs by hammer punches
We called our teacher Miss Oliver Sergeant ****
The thing I remember most is curry flavoured crisps
I wish I could go back and get ten boxes of curry crisps!

If forgetting encroaches,
Build a pallisade of memory,
Gathering within
all worth remembering.
This, He said, is my instruction:
Understand it as allegory
at the risk of your self-destruction.

My memory – a thing of yesterday
My memory – repeat if necessary
My memory – not always trustworthy
My memory – I miss your company

There is one on some loves,
That flourish like summer flowers
And bring seemingly endless joy
To lovers entwined
And hypnotized by the notion
That this will bloom forever.
But as years pass, some flawless
In execution and mutual care,
The flower begins to fade,
As if its color and fluid are drained,
Perhaps by the force of love itself.
And, unknown to the two,
They glide apart slowly,
Like two ships on the tide,
Until one day, they reach a horizon.
Each looks out for the other
As they have done before,
And call out in hope, then despair,
But they are unseen, far away.
They may try to sail back,
Beating furiously against the tide,
And finally, admitting defeat.
They each collapse, crying, shouting,
Blaming life, fate and humanity.
After months spent on the rocky shore,
In tears or questioning why
And often getting no reply,
The memory of passion fades
As new flowers bloom
And life’s garden summers on.