if i were to turn and say
hey dude i ******* hate you, kay?
(well no, of course it isn't true-)
but what d'you reckon you would do?
i'm only wondering because
you act like it'd be no loss
and insecurely, i don't know-
because you sometimes seem as though
either you think i'll never leave
or just don't care what i believe?
i'd like to say i have a line
but no, i'll just sit here and whine
while you sit there, knowing quite well
that i would never ever tell
you that i'm giving up, you see
i think that this means more to me
than you, perhaps, and **** that stings
especially recently, when things
have led your life away from mine
i know it's not your fault; it's fine-
except it's not, because i never
thought that i would have to weather
all my ugly parts alone,
you used to be just down the phone.
i never used to hide from you
and now it seems you want me to-
but i've spent years with my gun down
it's hard to pick it off the ground.
*-maybe i'll close my eyes instead
and un-remember what you said.
it's come again,
just in time for christmas-
bitter weight that makes you want to scream
(you feel strangled by violin chords,
the sun burns but clouds stick in you
throat and choke you- you are
safest in the dark).
block out the stars, God please don't
let them in- they're acid on your eyelids
and they hurt
oh- this nameless monster.
they say it doesn't exist but then what
is this within you, all blunt fangs and
hoovering up your insides
(you're a walking vacuum,
about to collapse in on yourself,
and nobody can see).
She sits on the bottom step but
one with water-wrinkled fingers and
a ring clutched in her hand. Her eyes
spill silently, noiseless rivers down the
seams of her face (she's coming undone, now,
he's gone and she's coming undone).
It is perhaps inevitable that
what once shined is dimmed,
The fuse blown (slowly, though-
You didn't notice till your eyes were
filled with darkness and you
couldn't see a thing.)
Faux-smiles in the crush of
Urban escapes through cans of
Kings and queens-
You left me behind, and I know you
Owe me nothing, but that doesn't
Undo this hurt.
sometimes I am
overwhelmed by words-
the countless human voices
shouting to be heard. and then they
ask you what you love, and
what you read- and you must
scrabble for the words they
want and need. but all the
great ideas are blurry in your
mind - what really sticks are
those old friends you left behind
amongst the cushions and the
trees you knew when smaller-
the battered books familiar:
easy smiling caller
who knows the way into
your mind so very well, that you
don't have to put your thoughts to
show-and-tell. and all the places
in those stories feel like
home- they are the sea, and
all these new books seem just foam.
walking home in the
it's quiet and still, a music video
for piano chords and the
hum of cars. the air's cold but
your coat when you used
to come in late and
hug me, and I smile into my
scarf and the sky, humdrum
average beauty in the
not-quite-night of day.