they are all asleep
and I sneak under cover
of the lateness of the hour
to the comfort of my words
scrawled across a page in ink
from the nib of a fountain pen
they search for a target
I'll never achieve
on a journey through my head
reaching for perfection
I am tired by a world
always demanding more
than I'm prepared to give
always asking for more
than I could possibly have
but this moment is at least mine
stolen from the clock of life

I like that you don’t know my name
this dangerous liaison
smacks of a suicide mission
in this day and age
flying solo in the erotisphere
carries all kinds of penalties
especially with broken wings
that have left me unable to soar
crawling like a serpent
banished from Eden’s beauty
for all the sins I have performed
no resistance to temptation
always accepting any fruit proffered
by shadows that pass through the night
the rings getting darker under eyes
that have seen too much bed
and not enough honest rest
too much passion with no feeling
blank faces and sweated screaming
I like that you don’t know my name
so you won’t judge me far less trace me
for my part I promise to never call again

you dream the dream
of what's in their head
lost to the living
sacrificed to the dead
spirits rise within you
Ouija magic Ouija curse
they walk among us
hidden faces a veiled darkness
they walk among us
secrets half learnt

Incubus Drive
is when me and the neighbours fall out
it's not just the volume
furniture moving bass
but I have to sing
full shout
I know all the words
you see
cos I played it
so many ******* times
it's ingrained on my beer brain
all my inhibitions
blown out
I'm on stage
in front of the microphone
air guitar
I'm no Brandon Boyd
but by Christ I'm on fire tonight

ideas trickle from my subconscious
with nothing to catch them
but a fountain pen
and notebook lined paper

they pool into an existence
like a small tide over which
I have no dominion whatsoever
spreading across the page

small seas of myself
without a moon to control them
slosh about until they somehow
make sense of each thought wave

then they begin their ebb and flow
haunting me with their sound
as they crash on an empty shore
where I'm a castaway of my words

the cracks in the mirror
start to show
makeup morning
                              clown
becomes the show
unrecognisable face
made up to be
someone you know
still laughing
just not sure at what anymore

satisfaction of pain
too many
glass walls