Tweeting thrushes twittering
Above our heads,
A certain thickness about the air
Which fills my lungs with ***** matter.
The heavens opening, scarring my scaled skin.
You talking.

Tulips
Fresh from a plot of
Lazily potted plants,
The stench garrotting me as I walk past,
And just as I do, you appear,
Talking.

I'm at best when I'm resting.
Stop pressing me I need this serenity,
This blank papyrus and
Sea sodded swimwear.
My only memento of you.
Stop talking.

You and I, You and I, You and I,
They said.
Why must they lie and ignore
Your tentative gaze?
My harboured farcical thoughts
Encroaching my mind,
Slowly metastasising through the hollow mould
Which is my body.

The noose lies still on the white-wash table.

We are together again.
Our  names imprinted on a boulder of soft, cold granite,
And beneath the dead tulips
And the heavy mud,
We stop talking.

I would hold my grudges like I kept my secrets,
I would smile while dying just to pretend,
That I was okay and above it I could ascend,
I thought the weight was too heavy for me to contend.

I would wallow in despair and swallow hateful tears,
I learned that secrets are like cancers metastasising through humanity,
Hatred is a product of imbalanced duality,
And if we are to move forward we must outgrow insanity.

Tumors


      Democracy is an operation

     nations use to eliminate the

    spread of cancerous growths.


  Brexit was the surgical removal

of East Tumor (as the Irish call it)

       from the European Union.


        Palestine currently has a

           malignant swelling

  metastasising on its West Bank.


  After acupuncture, the one on

   Russia’s border is going into

           a state of remission.

Unnaturally alluring,
Enticing, designed to be,
Then every cell disagrees,
Metastasising is every weird degree.