It's well past midnight
In a room full of pink
Lustful stares
Meet my satire brink
I can’t have
A wandering eye;
It’s you that I miss
So I’ll go home and cry
I'm thinking of numbers
And the time in my head
How long it’ll be
Until you’re back in my bed
You said from the start
“You can do better”,
Then why do my eyes
Get wetter and wetter?
My chest isn't tight
From the nitrates and oxides
I don’t have time
For bleach blonde peroxides

I’ll thrash the seas
to the east
and bring the wind
from the north
when the sun is
in the south
I’ll be as wicked
as the **west

I’ll carve out
my heart
and set it
in clay

At least then
just maybe
it won’t get
in my way

The city of ale
iconically brown
A bridge of millennium
sits on our northern town

Dreamed of the lights
from the fields of nothing
Drowned in the bottles
and couldn’t stop coughing

an efflorescence flower
           is slowly becoming;
a long awaited hour
and a drawn out humming

the emerald fields
     of sharpening grass
                 a bed of roses
and thorns made of glass

an ethereal demeanour
concealed in the smoke
           slowly digesting
the aged poisoned oak

The needle drags
Your threads to my heart
Mending the places
Where I’ve come apart

And your woven tapestry
Runs lines in the sun
Twirling in circles;
I come slowly undone