quaint tragedy

wet sunday
we are dozy
after the resting..

and the inhaling,

and stranger, i am deep,
when i think of you,

i try to match my reflection,
with the subtle nuances of evening -
but i am left blue..

now that i am in love -
wet sunday,
whatever are we to do?

we don't have to talk

void of substance
drained by self-consciousness
i look at you too much.
the bottle pours forth, like your confidences
when mixed together,
with lemonade.

my heart has four chambers
and they are all empty tonight
footsteps could echo through them-
strangers leaving without a word-

and we could be strangers
in our latent romance.

caffeine

i used to be jittery
crazy
gesticulating madness
and pushing at her teeth-
some would say, falling apart.
in those nights of rotten apples,
i was cold
and cold
and cold
with matters of the heart

i want to be jittery again...

faltering

shock,
said he,
twenty years apart,
when i found you smoking,
with lungs bleeding,
and a withered little heart,
shock,
said i,
knowing that it really wasn't,
just testament to the start,
no,
no healing,
just faltering,
over the burn marks,
of all those burnt out stars,
but shock,
said she,
to forget me..
to not want me,
though i am not shocked,
just disconsolate.

[un]broken

i can't take it when
they kiss everywhere but the neck...
stand facing
walls where biologists were experimenting;
different genders, different sex.
it comes down to the facets,
the indifferent way you walk
when you know where you're going next.
well, i must remember to make you a note
upon the kitchen table:
we're over, i have left.
but, i'll be back for the coffee machine
and my kafka collection
still upon our shelves.
(and possibly one small x).

fest

transatlantic rush
when i caught the bus
saw your reflection
and an onslaught of lust
found my twenties turned to thirties
and now i'm begging,
don't leave me hopefully unrequited
and hopelessly lonely
listening to your music
the heavy guitar, sing
and the sound of 48 screaming cells
beneath my body..

a pop-punk sort of unholy.

plunge

ice-cold
and close to my skin-
from within
and its sweaty palms,
they run sticky
and fast-food thin
over
and over my body-
and i am struck...
because between the pulsing,
you are the sea-


and the water,

it's calling me in...

grey

in the war cemetery
there lay a boy
with arms for wings
and crystal eyes
like twin blue demons.
at his side
a dark girl
screams at him
for the last time.
her arm is the skeletal arm
claiming from the grave,
pointing accusation;
for he made me this way.
he made us this way.
she'll justify,
say that his old ways
will splint[her] and die.
and he will rise...

but all of us-
the brides-

we burn in paradise...

up for a chat

in the dead of dawn
when the world is fading
your headlights flicker
and the hard labor is done
there is a wheel
a thousand miles away
that yearns for her
and a course
i never wanted to be on
where the dirt
will never get any cleaner
under the brush strokes
of the trainers we wore
and my little brain dead head
could write no more
my wordless life
left it's meaning with the poor
and underloved alleys
in the streetlights
the depths of an unwanted course
i had to walk.
will you love me no more?
because i deserve none of it
i think, maybe
we should talk.

both sides

i am dimly stretched
here in the early tired

and my eyes sin tonight,
where we are cold
you show me the secret places
upon your skin
of wild sorts
i am suddenly wired
but planes could not ease me
and those trails
they cannot lead us
to know completely
that more than once
it is never going to be enough
because i want to tear at your flesh
i want you to know me
and my howling lust
sordid, candid, obscenely
i am a small sort of crazy
just fucking tell me you feel

when i am with love.


__________________________________________________

as we meet morning
you are in night
and i am brushed on to you
hard bristles press me over the mountains
upon your coarse skin
in all of its soft and gentle way

i cling until dry
and then as paint
i am eventually scratched away

nightstage

i am, on a still night
thriving...
in the vast
sombre waters
a cold shiver
runs up my spine
and i am boiling
my blood pumping
for everything around me
feels alive..
now i am.

away

for ragged gestures
i lay my body down
floor bound
and find my bones, cascade
though my heart
it's too fast to the beating
i am still vying for the sound
but wait, dear
you are yet a ghostly fade
a wondrous sort of disappearing
to evaporate
and pale
and now my hair, chopped-away
it's left ruffled
in an empty roomed cage
so behold, trespassers,
my bed, an earthly unmade..