contaminated...                            

the boy is explained in the dark
                  made smaller and tighter than his thirteen years
        invented a-tread each direful night ;
            in place of restfulness
                   he is tussled :

itchy within                                    
moans of a growth owning pain
domestic air is newly surrogate
the boy flees upstairs
the condition of the home is sickly
             excreted beads from the fibres
a pale mix is gland
                        a perspiration out of sorts
pursed
spritzed
lively          
            then a wing-ed light smog

keeping to his room                            
he sits on his bed to 'wait it out'
the sun downs                        
as fruited ideas                
                   treacle up the pine wood walls
as otherworld tones        
                             flute the flumes that plumb the walls
as his mother clears the dishes
        with the radio on
as the fathers increasing tardiness
        makes the wound hour leaden further

outside
wind starts churning up the monster
hustling the coniferous trees
stoking the forrest for its brazen voice
jeeving hard upon the house
dry *******
inducing a perverse osmosis
within                                              
          pressurized audibility is clayed
hairs on the carpet tick static
              ....  this negative duress

outside
the moon hides its legend            
an autumn owl takes the bough
     just above the boys window
    it hunches into its ruffle
       retches up a pellet of prey
fur and crushed bone
            clatters dryly into the gutter

the boy works his jaw
       relieving his popping ears
the rooms climate becomes sparky
important items radiate auras :
             the scorpion in formaldehyde
stolen from school
                          grandmas mourning ring on a string
                suspended above his desk
        an old key discovered in  the woods

investigation                          
a brief hole in sound
a slim bik of light traverses
  over the boy
    the bed
       and out into the hallway
it winks gone
     and sips of smoke
like lithe neat scraps of silk
start livening the corners of vision

he stands                                                      
open­s his closest and dresses for sleep
      yield to routine

Mother enters                              
    always a human breath                  
                                         of pre decay warmth
      here to make him into his bed
bound by her neat practiced tucks
                         the boy receives her loving words
                                  but she's in a separated world from his
distortion gums up the audibility          
he attends to lips
the blessings don't function right
mistress smudges are left in the air            
they trail from the corners of her mouth
                             with the expressive turns of her head

fending lightly from the room
she blows a kiss at the doorway
it punches a little galaxy swirl
                              and suspends
a heated blue weave of the hand
                    and she is gone

door concluded and the light left on
the wall flower patterns crick and shale loose
    they cash into the flooring
and in turn the floorboards palpitate finely
feathering into a unreliable state

less than a minute later ...                   
fathers presence                              
   makes an apologetic attempt
                                                     at a ghost-walk
sounds clumbered in an aquarium                
    he slides his back down the drunken partition
and talks
   he sells a story of personal wretchedness
some lesson is vague
flammability
the boy takes the readings                  
                  of the distant vocal squall
pauses in the erratic speech weather expect replies  
     but the boy fears this colonized version of the father

though anger
                        father does not enter
rumbles his fists, feet              
                 and frustration at the wall
stands                                            
      and­ punches his footfalls
                  to the master bedroom

the parents
together now closeted
amniotic             
their world fidgets fiercely and swells          
swaddled in their own dramatics
firing blindly                        
their voices
travel the pipes in the walls
back to the boys room
                drowned of discourse
but not the aggressive 'passion' flaring out
they plunder the boys ears

Sudden ! ;                
                  brakked smell of flint
a bird slams the window dead        
crack in the pressure
unbearable penetrating release
screaming the boy host violent
minds that bind are loosened
subpoenaed                                              ­
          the boy recoils and fends this raid
kicks off the bedding
strips free of his pyjamas
a thick layer of his own goes with it
fleecing his actual skin                        
raw stinging exposure
he tugs at the flay of his own rubbery peel
enough layers of dermis in one
grip and pull
to make real hurt
raw of pain
(it feels)
tug-tug
grip
and pull
sleeves off of limbs
and a sappy caul from his bonce
he doffs the leather onto the floor
fresh wash of song
fierce waves of signals hot and cool
he ***** up his matty sheered hide
"**** it !"
pulls up the window enough
vent
an outward 'gush' as the pressure balances
the boy                        
dispose    
      push the viscid pelt out
the boy expels
disgorged into the night

                                              - consummated

Rhiana has nothing on her
She's seen more brollies than any girl
From those that fit in your bag
To the weapons used by old hangs!

Every style you could ever want
To keep the rain off of your bonce
Be they flowers, black or hello kitty
They turn to her when the weather's ******

Now her day it flies when the weathers crap
But in her evenings, something lacks..
She seeks a man with a wooly face
To hold her hand and walk in the rain
Under her umbrella with that special fella x

My feet buzz againest the hard wood floor,
They want to escape,
They dream of more,
Than this grey skies uniformity

They want to pitter patter,
Againest alien surfaces,
They want to know what matters,
The most in this misty life.

They want to live their fantasies,
They want clarity,
To have a monochrome rainbow,
As their reality

They want to splash though an icy river,
That carries joyous smiles,
And less than carefully calculated,
Phone dials

They want the moonlight,
To bonce off their paper skin,
To be able to make memories,
To share with kin

They want to tip toe,
Up creaky stairs,
To bring best friends up,
To their sunshine lairs

They want to fall in love with the certainty,
That tommorrow brings,
Another day unfolding just as perfectly,
As the last

It's a rainy day,
Many games to play,
While some are outside,
It's inside I crave.
And I hope you know what inside I mean,
The inside that's clean,
Always wet and warm waiting for me to slip in.
It's like warm seas, just needing to take a dip,
While the rest of the body works, and tongue kissing no lips.
I'm so cold, I just want to cuddle and be held,
With a grip from her waist tighten hips,
Bodies so warm so we twist and turn,
And our hearts race and neck burns.
No sound but the rain drops,
That bounce off many roof tops,
And that bonce back,
With my hands around her back like back straps.
Craving is a joke,
And I ain't talking about some drinks and smoke,
But like that lay down, lay back and that neck choke.
*******,
Or even inside her, where its warm like in snow coats.
It's the feeling all about now. I can't stop thinking,
About tongue kissing, breast squeezing and her back sinking.
Straight shots and I don't mean drinking,
Like one foot short and long and I ain't talking about limping.
Only that moan hearing, *** clapping and **** stroking.
It's a rainy day,
So what you expect,
Only play fighting, rain bathing or even football playing,
Well what about *** gaining, back straining and our bodies paining,
When we're done and *** dripping like taps flowing.
It's just me craving.
And if we can't do all of that well we could still hug,
And bite each other like bed bugs,
And I'll still kiss you and squeeze your *******,
Although that's the most we might get to do but it's still love.
I'm just missing you, missing holding, hugging and kissing you.
But don't worry, I'll get over it,
Then maybe take a ****,
Thinking about you mostly then remember about this poem and say it's lit.
Then I'll lay in bed while the rain falls,
Because I'm too cold to go outside.
Then I'll knock out and dream about it all.