You showed me to create life from dirt,
how to hear the Earth's heart beat
and how to devour life in every breath.

Its been a year since I saw you last.

Cold and lifeless on a table.

The reaper was waiting for you to leave us,
waiting in the fake grotesque comfort of a cafeteria
for you to join him again.

You avoided his company for ten years.
Deteriorating slowly.
Laughs fading into the creases of your skin.
He dimmed the lights in your eyes
slowly,
so we could watch.

I remember you in flowers.
And coriander,
and crushed mustard seeds,
and by the mini liquor bottles you collected.

I remember you in car journeys,
and in stories.
In the walls of the house you built
out of blood
sweat
and hustle.

I remember your lessons
and the jokes
and the blue clouds of smoke
that separated us then
and now.

I remember your fables,
the guiltless line of where to go,
and how you showed me to not be afraid of the dark.

I'll carry your fire and perforation,
I'll carry your name and nationality,
I'll carry your pride and persistence,

with everything left in me.

He touched her where she was skinny,
in between the terracotta breaths they took,
underneath the sunburned sky.

They would dim for moments at a time,
watching the world around them melt to water colour,
speaking a language in between their irises that no one else could understand.

But their time ran short,
and his love ran out.

All she wanted was old fashioned love.
All she got was old fashioned morphine.

This is on account of loving you most ardently,
And believing you were my Mr Darcy,
When you could and never will be,

This is on account of your ability to make me want to take the stars from your eyes,
Brighter than those in the skies,
And inject them straight into my bloodstream.

This is on account of my desire to bottle up every moment we share,
And open it, releasing the essence into the air,
When the days are dark and cold,
And my soul feel worn and old,
And you aren’t as near as I’d like you to be.

This is on account of us,
We are turbulence,
The definition of young and reckless,
Fire breathers and blood drinkers,

You are the rose-tinted beginning and end of everything,
A moment away from your side is a moment wasted.

In short,
This is on account of my loving you forever.

I found myself walking through tea stained sunsets,
Among the less extraordinary,
Through the puddles and shadows of sky scrapers,
And feeling bare.

As if I lay all I had to the world,
As if i were a car boot sale,
And my stock was used up and never replenished.

As if i were tea that was brewed too long
And became too bitter for public consumption.
Thrown
Down the drain
And through the rivers that run beneath the streets.

I found myself with a belly gorged on a litre of reused ideas,
Watching a sped up time lapse shot of the traffic by night on the Spaghetti Junction,
Losing and changing focus,
The silent hum of a city heaving.

As if I’d never seen the city,
As if I’d never lived and breathed it’d dreams,
As if my lungs weren’t full of it’s potential,
As if each time you travel through its kaleidoscope it doesn’t feel like the first time.

And everything that was or could have been was possible in this space,
One million heart beats in union,
Proletariat minds and gold lined pockets.


I found myself on a train to God knows where,
45 minutes of travel and a bagel later,
The other end of the world emerged from underneath a railway bridge,
In the watercoloured city,
The streets that made me,
Industry born and silk bred,
And street lights are at the ends of tunnels guide me,

Home.

She makes sense in the context of her chosen company,

Her views become less obscure,
Understandable.

As if the vibrations of her wavelengths make sense.
When she is surrounded
By similar harmonies.

The depth of their collective perception becomes infinite.

Maybe it was down to their minds
being alive
And full of the smoke of God.

Or maybe,
It was their neuro-pathways,
Moulding and mapping the world around them.
They woke up to the politricks.

Their indigo glow could be just that of youth,
A Millennial whoop,
A tribal pixelated galaxy of potential,
Moulded to form the masses.

Just like a generation beforehand.

The mosaic of human awakening seems never ending.

But there must come a point of human realisation

A mutual realisation

Our little lives are insignificant to the monologue of the universe.

You never close doors behind you,

You mind is a watch
A compass
Awash with
beauty and dread
You haunt me in the day
And wear my skin in the night
And flood me
With lust

And you leave me
Adrift

How

Can you say you love me

When you know

I have no reason to live

Other than you.