Milk and honey;
one is more luscious and inviting
dripping down your pouty, cherry red lips.
The other is warm and tempting,
but for some reason,
I can't stand to stomach it.

Sugar will never
be as sweet as that first taste
When we were young and wanton
Careless to the world
And that first sharp sickly trickle
From the fountain of youth
Stuck to our mouths
With far more haste
Than the honey we were spoon fed
As infants wrapped in milky swaths
Waiting for this exciting new world
to swallow our cries
And then sugar's grit opened our eyes
From the inherited blindness
Of a world without sight
And we saw the sadness
This sweet song could bring
As it took our hearts and curled around
Restricting its melody
And submerging its sound
In a world more sour than we had imagined.
A world more weary than that fountain guaranteed
And now I hardly remember
When milk and honey
could taste so achingly sweet
I wish we could go back to that land
Before bitterness swallowed it
To lay waste beneath
In a tangle of fears
and wants
and slowly rotting teeth.

They say don't cry over spilt milk,
But this isn't just a glass of milk,
This was the best milkshake I've ever had,
Complete with whipped cream and a cherry,
The smoothest blend of cream and sugar to ever meet my tastebuds,
And it wasn't just spilt over, it was knocked out of my hands.

The urban legend going round the mummy club
A woman
On a tube
Breastfeeding her baby, 5 months old, under her t shirt.
Not **** out
No feminist flags waving
No brazen cocky smile.
Just a hungry baby and a mother made by nature
And some milk

"Put em away Love", slurs an ugly man halfway down the carriage.
The other passengers are divided.
Some sink deeper into their headphones, under their broadsheets.
The others are ready for revolution, sit up straighter and plan an attack phrase or a protective move.

But this is what she's been waiting for since she so triumphantly became a successful, proud breastfeeder.

With a wet plucking noise she pulls her baby from the ****** where he was so contentedly feeding, where his warm little head was halfway to milky coma dreamland.
And she holds him aloft, her grip is confident and full. No one is afraid she will drop him, but he does not want to be there.
And in the stark light of the carriage, arms and legs chilly and free in the air he begins to flail them about. His voice throws out mews to every window of the carriage, turning into scratchy shouts as his protest gets stronger.
Until the baby, in a blue furry jumper, little bear ears for cute effect, is screaming.
Red faced, and with tonsils and tongue vibrating in the storm of his voice.
Arms and legs swimming frantically, looking for the bank of the river where warm mummy sits.
And over the storm, mummy looks over at the swaying, squinting man and shouts,
"WOULD YOU PREFER THIS?"
In one movement she cradles the yelling blue cub, shushing and quietly speaking to him as only a mother can, offering her ****** to his mouth until his round fuzzy head is bobbing and his mouth quietly busy resuming his meal.
"Or this? " She looks over at him.

The man mutters to himself and looks away. At the next stop he gets off the train, tripping down the step onto the platform.

The mother releases the challenge in one large breath.

She looks up at the two young men sat in front of her.
They are smiling, staring in awe. Choking and speechless one of them starts to applaud her.
Clapping her and shaking his head, his mate joins in.

dear Jackson,
i saw you again today
with her.
i was going to talk to you until she pulled you into a kiss
and so i left it to another day


dear Jackson,
i saw you again with her
but this time she was looking away
and you looking at her, and i wondered
what were you thinking about?


dear Jackson,
she wasnt with you today
so i sat next to you and you told me
you had an argument with her
so i gave my condolences and you said not to worry


dear Jackson,
you were by yourself again today but came to me
you seemed really down and so i offered you strawberry milk
you smiled, and thanked me
i know she hates strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
you were with her again today
smiling this time and laughing
she had a banana milk in her hand as did you
and so i left


dear Jackson,
i didnt see you today
i wondered where you were
as i sat on the bench
drinking my strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
she was screaming at you today and you screamed back
she stormed off leaving you alone
as you sat with head in your hands
and i drank my strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
i gave you another strawberry milk
and you thanked me with a small grin
and we sat there drinking
and enjoying eachothers company


dear Jackson,
you should smile more
it really suits you
its just a shame that today
you smiled because of her


dear Jackson,
there was a strawberry milk in your locker
and she said it was from her
and you accepted it and kissed her
forgetting she hated strawberry milk


dear Jackson,
its been 5 months since weve spoken
and i sit here every day wishing
and drinking my strawberry milk
as you smile together
i was going to talk to you,
but whats the point.

a bus ride to somewhere
tranquil or at least to
somewhere less loud
i look high or tired or
a combination of both
                              what is the word...
                                                         there.
                                                     pa-thet-ic
maybe traveling with
an empty stomach helped
because normally
i would've puked
banana bread and tea by now
                           i've always hated shaky
                                drives and the smell of
                                                      air freshener
do you hear all the noise too
there's a madman shouting
in my ear, a ****** karaoke tune
and a tiny voice saying
                                       you're immaterial
repeatedly
                                                   or is it just me
how do you function
when you feel like you've lost
an arm except in my case
it's my brain that's been missing
                                 you should see my stash
                                                       of milk cartons