A mass pushing into me like a great lorry
The leather jacket, the smell of the dead
The skin so shiny like a glass filled with milk,
White and whole and fattening, filling you up

But not full yet, one final blow to come
And the covering of the legs like netting,
Rips apart, an opening to another world,
Begging me, asking for it, shaking with knowing

Had you not picked the fruit from that tree,
Tasting its seeking, desperate sweetness
Perhaps i would not feel your weight as I did
And you would fall down like an infantile bundle of feathers

The epidermis, the subcutaneous layer, the blood
Moving quickly then slowly then quickly
Are you still there? I shouldn’t care
A button falls from your breast, a trickle down your cheek

The eyes, the eyes! They follow me, the train,
Moves slower as it pulls into the station
And makes one final sound, a signal,
I’d rip their eyes out and let them bounce onto the tracks like marbles

So many stains of blood and war and toil
Lie across the carriages and out onto the moors,
I wouldn’t worry,
I’ll make it clean with disinfectant and run smooth again with oil

He makes me want to
drag red ribbons from her throat;
see what shapes
lye beneath her coat;
maybe walk for a thousand years,
without any fear of stroke...
never to return to this Land
called: Love.

He brings out the violence in me - -
for, I fear for the loss
of his soul, to thee.
He brings me to the light...
It's what makes it worth it;
all these foreign feelings of envy,
sneaking up my spine,
poured into my wine...

If only I were the only girl
in the world...
If only he were blind to
the golden locks of Hell
and the perfume scent of smell...
He makes me selfish;
No, I do!!
He makes me Hellish;
That's me too!!
What to do, what to do...
I love you.

He'd never turn.
So why does this passion
rapidly burn?
Like a clench of my fist,
and a stomach that churns;
He's mine!! Only mine!!
Never a question,
yet my words
portray suggestions;
Empty thoughts-- false dissatisfaction.

Unnecessary worries
and unwanted emotions...
Love can cause quite a commotion.
Worth it?
Yes, it's worth it.
Crazy?
Of course, I am.
I love you.
I love you...
I love you.
Thank you;
*Don't leave.

I love you
Please don’t let go of my hand
Are you ashamed of me?
Wait stop
What did I do?
Don’t
Please don’t squeeze it so har-
Ow!
That hurts please let go
What are you doing?
Stop please stop pushing your
Fingers between my collar bones
What are you doing?
Please stop, I love you*

This isn’t love, not at all
There isn’t a single bit
Of affection on his fingertips
When he shoves you on the floor
That ache that you feel when you touch
Your bruises? You tell yourself it’s love
Manifested so deep
Only something as intense as pain could show it
I know it hurts
It hurts when he calls you names
But it hurts more to think
That this isn’t love
Not at all
You’re doing everything
You can you’ve held him after
He hit you when he cries and
He swears he will be a
Better man.
“He can get better, I swear.
It wasn’t his fault,
I shouldn’t have done that.”
Darling, stop.
Stop bending over backwards for
A boy who only wants
To break your spine.
Stop giving him forgiveness undeserved
And apologies unnecessary.
Stop covering your bruises and
leaving your wounds unstitched
Stop bleeding for a boy
Who will never clean up the stains
Stop crying for
A boy who only laughs at your tears
Stop
This is not love.
Not at all
You’re too beautiful for these bruises
And dark circles under your eyes
You’re too strong for these wounds
You’re too important to let this
Boy take away your life
This isn’t the love that you deserve.
This isn’t love, not at all.
You are more than
Your bruises and you are
More than your scars you are so much
More than the names he calls you
And your tear stained pillow cases.
Honey, dry your eyes.
Stitch your wounds.
Straighten up your spine
You are so
Much more than this.
Say goodbye
Because this isn’t love
Not at all.

Wednesday 17 December 2014

This one was beautiful.  I sculpted it myself.  Did you know that?
It took years and, if I’m completely honest, I was overly fond of it.
I’d made many, of course.  I had to.  We all had to.
Cupped, round, and smooth, heavy in my hand like a clay pigeon.
So beautiful...

Somehow it began in light,
Naïveté and youth.
I used to say it just felt right,
And free from all abuse.

At  first it formed a perfect ring,
Of lies I thought were true.
I bring it, now, to end the thing.
I bring it, now, to you.  

Because every thing must have its place,
Every thing in its own time.  
This beautiful thing has failed it's need,
Inspiring only pain and rhyme.

-but may it live in memory, still,
May the growth outweigh the pain.
When pain brings growth beyond your will,
Remember fondly, this thing, again.

So why did I smile when you asked me to hold it?
Why did I find it fitting that you made me load it into the trap?
Why were the lines formed by your braced shoulder,
your leveled forearm, your
outstrectched, cradled hand,
so beautiful...
when you inclined your head,
Closed one eye, and,
Steady, raised your sights?

Why did I love you so much for pulling the trigger?

i pull away in the nick of time
right before he captures his lips with mine
he grabs my shoulders
my meekness making him bolder
and as i struggle he pulls me in closer
as if this changes the fact that this is part of an older
struggle for dominance
but aware of an audience
i shrug out of his violent embrace
as his angry fingers try to erase
my fear of his anger
my fear that he will linger
in this ferocious dispute
of me trying to escape you
bruises bloom as you glide your hand down my arm
as you make everyone forget with your charm
bruises bloom in my heart
as your words tear me apart
bruises bloom in my mind
as you blind
the ones that could mend
the bruises you tend
like a garden of blue green
roses

While I nodded nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping.
A loud rap rapping on my chamber door, the noise of the latch
click clicking, I heard above the clock tick ticking, then the creak
of the boards, the squeak of the nails, across my chamber floor.
And in the darkness with eyes flick flicking and the noise in my
head of the latch click clicking, and the clock in the hall still
tick, tick ticking; came the noise of his boots kick, kick kicking!
What thought I with eyes still  flicking with the sound in my head
of the clock tick ticking, and the ache and the pain from his boots
kick kicking!  Why me?
Then a punch to my face, my face to his knee, then my eyes stop
flicking. No sound anymore, no more of the clock tick ticking,
Only the creak of the boards and the squeak of the nails across
my chamber floor.  Then the sound of the latch click clicking;
no tapping or rapping, no eyes flick flicking, no, no more kicking.
Only the darkness, the slam of the door.  Then the clock tick tick,
ticking, no more creaking of the floor.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I lay there wondering and
fearing; I just cant take this anymore!

My couch is a wasteland,
Pulls me down, I cannot stand.
It scares me that I’m drawn to gore,
I see destruction, I want more.
I don’t know if its anger,
Or if it’s something stranger.
I want to shatter glass,
I need to make this feeling pass.
I want to throw things and scream,
I want to get out of this dream.
Running isn’t satisfying,
I feel like I need to break something.