He is smooth as he spreads himself across the room
with His smile and those eyes that are full of surprise
if He touches you you're stuck but you can't get enough
you are happy anyway and would like to have Him stay
it's not that He is beautiful it all lies in His charm
before you know your bearings He's hooked you to His arm
it's more of an affliction than any healthy condition
and to extricate yourself from Him is sure to be a mission
so smooth, so soft, so sticky, so tricky

It would be good to run.
And best to do it quickly.

Perhaps it was cowardice
that made me this brave.

I’m addicted to it now;
to courage in its liquid form.

The dry drag of depression
salts my tongue with sand.
My hands tremble in fear
when my teeth can’t clatter
around the hard A in alcohol.
So I drink my fill of courage.

Perhaps it is cowardice
that keeps me this brave.

I didn’t know I had it in me
That it was something I could do
But then you happened upon me
And now I can never be through
Like a tap slowly turning, so grows this yearning
To express all that I have held repressed
YES!
Finally
I hear Me
I See Me
Hello

i bet even after all this time
that if my chest were to
ache with emptiness enough
like it used to i could go to your house
and find the outline of our bodies
on your dark blue bed sheets
i have spent the last year
both trying to run from you
and find you at the same time
but i left everything i knew
about falling in love
on that mattress and
it's still settling there
like dust and
all i can do is write about you
until it comes back to me,
or by some kind of miracle,
you decide to.

She asked as she sat staring at her screen
Keenly aware that something inside was…
Aching and possibly
Breaking
She wants more. But more of what?
Less of this? What would that look like?
Would it be pink and fluffy and smell of candyfloss
Or would it be dark and dank and smell of mould
She must know. Now.
She’s growing old. In the way that kids do. Way. Too. Fast.
But she cannot
Will not
Refuses to
Accept that this
Is it

Out of my mind
Anxious
As the seconds bleed out as if from a stone
Every fibre of my being wants not to be
Here
Now
But I am.
This is why I write
This is where I write
I sigh to pass the time, and sigh as I rhyme
Bored.