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Touchand given that my life is not so much a life
as it is a void, and not so much a void
as a transposition,
three steps away from the
truth of things,
a smear of grease-paint vision,
given that i have spent hours with
my back on the asphalt spine
staring at the pale shell of the sky and
imagining myself as nothing but the
nothing i saw,
the paper-bone annulment of life,
some misstep between
‘born’ and ‘die’,
given all this, i had no choice
but to throw myself down
at the temple of incarnation,
and say before i drowned:
‘oh lord, save me, for i have
lost it all, and i am floating,
and i am falling,
and i am gone’.
at first i offered him blood sacrifice,
or close enough,
stinging tallies of the days
when i could not remember
what it felt like to be alive –
i decorated my skim-milk thighs
and waited for fruit,
or stars, to burst
behind my eyes.
but then i learnt better ways, gentler ways,
things that he gave me, or perhaps
things that i gave him
AcceptI fall into wretchedness
like lovers’ arms. The sting is lost –
the burning lamps of stars begin to fade,
and soft grey muslin is drawn ’cross the
Hello, I say, and pull myself
out of bed; in unison
the atoms of my bones
are yawning their lament.
The eye of the stormPull from me a hundred
thousand things –
unspool with gentle hands,
you who are so sweet
in the needled dark, cold-foot
and rabbit-heart. A hundred thousand
things: my head bowed and heavy
with reverence on your chest, honey
and flowers and flames of a fire
hot and aching and bright, a fire to
sit beside when the
windchimes jangle madly in
let them eat dreamcakethere is a time for revolution, there
is a time to topple the tsar and his tsarina;
there is a time for dirty air in dirty lungs to become
fire, and scorch away brocade, scorch away dead
flesh. the rotting tyrants:
memory, and impasto-thick
grief, like chocolate clogging on the tongue.
they are inseparable, feeding each other grapes with
shoving, sultry fingers, lethargic and
lolling on their thrones.
there is a time to pull down the pillars
and roar like lions as they smash –
and that time
but oh, the people are tired. the people want to sleep.
the people want sugar spun lies, just a little more.
the people are too hungry for falsities melting
in their mouth – their stomachs ache
too much to storm the palace
this star-crust winter night.
cotton-shirt boy. breathing in
my hair, my skin,
stars, planets, i orbit
you. we spin apart.
i am not
Regurgitate.And she talks,
and talks, and talks,
and she is crisply pressed, neatly
dressed, she is an apple of a woman, beneath
her skin there’s snowwhite flesh neat and vitamin
and my lip wobbles, rot-ness pouring
out of the corners of my eyes, black
inkwater smelling of stagnation, a lake of nothing,
and despair is dribbling
from the most intimate corners of my lips,
from the twisted scar where I fell off the swing
age eight, slammed my knee into my jaw and shoved
my teeth through the wet wet meat;
“but – ”, and my voice is cracked
and young and sour-thick, she tells me it
all just comes down to stress, dear, it’s
kindly she tells me all about how I made these stones
in the poisongrotto of my mind, how I built them
with fingers shaking and throat catching, how I built them
atom for atom amidst rainstorms, amidst
wire fences and the muddy coating
of my own fevered
they’re your babies and
the pilot's daughterI would swallow
if poetry alone
could fly me to you.
flight risk or no,
I wish you
clear skies ahead ;
I will wait for you
Step Back Let's take a step back:
back to simpler times
where we had no cares
and just hoped it would last.
I love you more than anything
and I love you more
than anyone else
on this forsaken television screen
displaying the dream of life
could love anything.
has a greater love
than mine for you.
Forget all the philosophical quotes
I need to stop
and get back
to the point of this notebook:
throw poetic license out the window,
I fucking love you,
I have nothing
and with you
I have everything;
I could ever ask for,
Anticipated Disaster Waiting
for something all hidden.
If the secret get out,
it's over for us.
You want everything
and I think I have it all.
You think I'm perfect,
when I'm lacking
all that you seek.
are everything I need
just by being with me.
Asking and anticipating
all that leads to our demise
I feel bad,
for not giving the same way;
but right now
I feel dreadful,
Stomach Tied In Knots2:47 A.M.
Texting you late night
Listening to songs that make me think of you
Thinking of me pecking kisses on your pretty pink lips
It keeps my stomach tied in knots.
1:32-1:34 AMIts late
I know I should sleep
But all I want to do
Is stay and talk with you
Even as the stars twinkle and shine
And as the sun begins to rear it's ugly face
Even if I had work tomorrow
I'd stay up all night to speak to you
It'll bring me closer to you
Since you aren't here
With me, falling asleep
Catching yourself with little head jerks
Being here to hold close
It leaves a void
That can't wait to be fulfilled
By being with you again
Fireflies.Take my hand,
twirl me around,
can you glimpse the fireflies
as we dance?
A silent audience,
blinking and providing our light,
the warm air surrounding us
is filled with those lanterns.
Can you hear the music?
Can you feel the beat?
We're singing even if we can't speak,
laughing even if we can barely breathe.
Dancing, listening, singing, laughing
all across the grass as we glide
(in what hopefully passes as graceful),
yet paying no mind whoever may judge
for there's only us tonight.
Under the stars above,
through the yellow stars around,
I think dancing with you
would be more like having lightning bugs inside me,
replacing the butterflies for one evening.
Laugh into me,
for maybe it's not my veins filled with light
but your eyes.
Reflecting the stars that don't blink quite like
Not your HeartLying in my bed, in the silence of the night,
my head is overwhelmed with one, single, giant
thought right in this lone moment. You, my dear,
you are the thought that is swimming laps
through my head.
How do I even begin to wonder if you do love
me; it feels like your giving me so many mix
signals that I am beginning to question if my
eyes are playing little tricks on me. Or are
you just unsure if you should take the leap.
You don't want to feel the pain that could
over rule every emotion that you have no
desire to feel in the first place. If
that's so, then I could never want to break
a heart like yours, it has way to much
wonderment for me to want to break when
there is so much more for me to explore.
The uniqueness that your soul has makes it
so hard, for me to resist not wanting to go
look into your eyes to see your whole world
lit up in a matter of seconds; maybe it's
just the reflection of me every time that I
look at you, how you can make me smile
effortlessly because of
So thereThey want you for me
So I'm fine
I love you
I don't care
This summer's going to be
Funny as hell
Though hell isn't funny
The world will
Seem to revolve
Why must it hurt
When we're together?
Love I hope
Invisible Titlehook up slowcoach chemtrail to faster fading rainbow
cyberpenance for above
will ill B
the falling forward of
ur neon halo
down around scruff of department
with the tightening
set to o god zero
more mid morn mare of
painting of a fave childhood haunt (Fraserburgh or bust)
Done over in live chameleon colours
(More of flat 2" vivarium than frame)
In harm’s way it then swang swung or swinged
Coz of see-saw: centipede housekeeper (Narkfish)'s wee 3d games
Of snakes and ladders is all
The something saurus sin dream stains are brillo white
But won’t wash with unevolving sky’s extended blue jag
No eider down got plucked out
For voodoo pillow fight that ensued
(got our pillow filler from EBay
from the collective head shave
of early 70’s pop group Mango Berry
from their drink drive charity
don’t pardon puns at least 8 intended
chipped off nail polishTell me what to do, boy;
my nail polish is chipped off
and I know I am not perfect.
Tell me what to do, please
it's hard to swallow
and I cannot breathe
because you're out there somewhere in the world.
(Where the hell does someone like you come from?)
My lips are bitten
and my heart is sore.
People say that strong emotion is good
that it means you're alive and sensitive
that it's better than the numbing lethargy
And it's true, I've never felt this present
on this blue-and-green marble world of ours.
But oh god, I cannot take it any more.
My shoulders are thin and I am pale and sick
and I do not know if I can survive
any more of this feeling.
Tell me what to do.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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