if looks could ****
     i'd be slaughtering the masses
and if these walls could talk
     they'd probably never stop laughing
but if that ***** of a mattress should crack
and leak the secrets of mine that she keeps in her chest-
like tightly bound metallic coils-
     so help me lillith

i'll burn this house to the ground

     i'd rather see all that i've built turn into ashes
than to hear her voice rehasing all the whispers i'm slinging whilst fast asleep
     or how i cry in bed for weeks
     or the way i flinch when the sun crosses my face
like a shadow i can't name

     i'm a mess
a natural disaster with whirlwind hair and a lightning strike pulse
     in a second-hand dress that doesn't fit right
          i'm fine
     i'll survive

but should you be the boy i find
     and i bring you home tonight
just know that i'm better than alright
          know how very much i feel alive
regardless of the subconscious soliloquies you unleash in your half-silence
     divulging secrets whilst you slumber

          i wake like the waves lapping at a fallen empire's shoreline
     and quest to test your lyrical limitations and the possible personification of your breath
     and your chest
          heaving like the sea himself

the **** came boatsick and I made to light it with the marshmallow burning at the end of my shaky stick when father pinned it at the neck with his right foot and kicked it longside in the beak with his left and then brought the left heel back to break for the second time its neck and the **** hummed and then died and then I thought it hummed again but it was my father lowing in the soul he didn’t believe in as in life he finished nothing so couldn’t on faith have something that everyday waited and I remember thinking later after learning the word rabid and of the affliction rabies that authors swan to the dying animal from the shallows of knowing that the animal mourns maybe nothing and definitely does not mourn this that happens no other way.

Sorrow casts a lazy eye
through a passing cloud above
remorse has found a place to rest
longside my one true love
bitterness whispers
then fades gently
into the 'sea of truth be known'
she gave her soul to one unwilling
and fed that love alone
the color of the dream she knew
whilst I slept deep and blind
kept hampered by a governed heart
afraid to beat in kind
yet in the waking hour she shines
enduring light through great despair
I'd gladly trade the days I've left
to kiss her honey hair

Thy recesses of heart bestowed upon thee
Art the work of a Master, a prodigy forsooth
Thou hast the complexion of that which is pure
Harbingers of hell doth cower ere
Thine beauty of thee; shalt prosper evermore
Allow me to apologize,
For a queen art thou to me,
Whom ‘gainst one could not make delations
Long after yon, at which hour thou art gone
But if 't be true come the day, forced; thy queen walk hence
Shalt thee leave me, nay!
Still wilt ye reside ‘longside me
Beest t in flesh, or beest t in heart
The love I hath for thee, wilt nev'r fall apart

I stood there and faced him, his eyes were dark and cold,
His face was coarse with anger, rage had taken hold,
He stooped to grab a weapon, my eyes locked onto his hand,
My gaze was broken for a moment, a fearsome punch he did land.

A searing pain ran through my face, and my head in turn did spin,
His evil eyes and deathly stare were now an evil grin,
As I hurtled back more pain I felt across my hairless head,
My world turned into darkness I feared that I was dead.

They say your life flashes before you when faced with such events,
It’s fair to say it’s true, of that there’s no pretence,
My brothers in arms broke my fall and dragged me from my fate,
They battled on without me as I lay in my unconscious state.

When I started to come round, my head was spinning like a wheel,
The taste and sight of blood, and pain was all that I could feel,
My brain was saying get up man and help your brothers out,
My body was saying ***** you fella your down and out for the count.

As I lay in pain and coming round on a grotty lino floor, a vision I did see,
An angel known as Gracie who had come to tend to me,
She soothed my brow and comforted me while in a bloodied heap I lay,
The others were still working hard to keep my evil foe at bay.

Now whilst the scars and bruises are fading and life I guess goes on,
The mental scars are the scary ones, for those you struggle to outrun,
So this smiling laughing clown you know and feel safe to work longside,
Is trying to bounce back in his darkest hours the part he feels has died.

The moral here is an aged one, and one we can’t forget,
The band of brothers we work alongside are the best we ever met,
So when your sat up on the 2’s on your seventh cup of tea,
Just remember the laughing clown and raise a brew to me.