a woman.

I need a woman, so badly.
I need a woman, with wild curly hair
Eyes that shine at every surprise
And wink when she’s done something
unspeakably dirty
With soft, smooth skin, and freckles
I can trace all over her body
Full of curves and contours
And scars and rhymes
Fingers, long and slender
Strong arms, luscious legs
To pin me down with
Bold cleavage showing,
I’ll kiss her tender neck
Leave my mark, taste her scent
Inhale her beauty, the air I breathe
She’ll make me laugh,
when no-one else can
She’ll hold the keys to my mind
In the palm of her hand
I’ll chase her, form and spirit
Through waves, across the sand
Her charm will seduce me
Capture me, never let me go
She’ll smile, the world will stop turning
And I’ll smile
Her lips, such soft silk
Beneath mine, so yearning
I’ll drown in her gaze
Immerse myself in her voice
As she whispers, talks, giggles and screams
Passionate, a child
To be cared for and loved,
as wild as her hair
She’ll fall, I’ll catch her
She’ll hold me, I’ll cry
She’ll reach for the sky
And gently touch the stars
Her touch, leaves me gasping
Aching for more, for her
She drives me, spinning
Into worlds so high, so breathless
I could never adore
Anyone but her, love her more than
Life itself, for life is her
She is the best of me, the brightest of me
The happiest of me, and I her.

I need a woman, so badly.
Right now.

the smell of burning.

the flame, it leaps
he holds it to my chest
too close, presses firm
as the flame starts to dance

my skin, the slate
it scrapes
through layers of smouldered
me, from pink to dead
to blackest black,
rotten ebony

it peels away
he pushes deeper
through tissue and sinew
to muscle and back

throbbing organs
shudder and moan
the glistening white
of perfect bone
shines through

that orange glow of the flame
lights up the cave
as he plunges in rage
deeper he goes

frayed edges of flesh
they stretch and twist
round his circling wrists
his teeth grind
with pleasure, satisfaction

bloodied and grand
are his human hands
the dancing flame
it gently pirouettes
in the hole in my chest.

let them come.

the sky, darkened
her eyes, darkened
her vision, blinded
by a deep purple-black
her retinas were tainted
whilst night was drawing in
as her hooded lids concealed
the burnt decay within
lashes fringed with ashes
pupils piercing and pitch
shadowed with foreshadowing
her lip corners twitched
the silohuettes of confrontations
outlined in the dusk
intimidation left at twilight
let them come, let them come.

 

night walk.

flicker and burn
my sight, etched
with image and blur
that endless tune
an echoing dirge
hands grasp that
bulky switch -
i am
reluctant
the bright noise, ended
draws the darkness near
heavy silence feasting
as doubts crawl ever closer
merciless, their webbed limbs
claw the weeping air
and the lonely owl ascends
up and up
those creaking stairs
to another restless night, it sends
a message to her dizzy friends
don’t leave me.

quite a friend.

i understand
that my words aren’t enough
could rarely be comfort
they aren’t uttered from her lips
or formed from a mind
articulate and picturesque
but just in case
you should ever need
my fumbled beginnings and
lingering ends
my pointless anecdotes
and drearily detailed depictions
of same-old surroundings

or, if you need anything else
that might be helpful
anything at all

your pain is my pain.
i’m here if you need me.

untouched glass.

How strange, to see the rain fall
Hear droplets scratch the ground
Whilst the glass remains untouched
The cascade, straight as lines
Drawn with thin lead tip
Smudged on crumpled concrete folds
The window, ever clear
Left to gaze
Imperfection’s neglect
Cresendo building
Slam, and bounce
The heavy smell of dampened earth
Drifitng through the open latch
Yet, still, dry
The glass calmly sits
Observing the rainfall.

the word well.

WHY
are these words
so far down
past dry walls
shattered tiles
lonely lies
down this well
there could be water
sitting, waiting
all i see is darkness
hear bones scrape
and snap
crack
letters in a heap
they don’t make sense
how am i supposed to deal with this
if they don’t make sense?

scissors and glue.

that flicker of doubt on your face
behind your eyes
the very same as mine
as you wonder
‘did i do it right?’
well, let me tell you
amidst all the photos
broken sea shells
stick figures on the fridge
there has to be something
my mind has shaded
a memory, lost
that severed this trusting connection
between parent and child.
did it concern
the never-ending screams of
a demanding sibling
was i forgotten
left on the top bunk
all on my own?
i remember that.
was it about
that clear haze of
redyellowblueredyellowblue
as i fell, soundless
waiting to be caught
the thud, shock
as i hit the floor?
staring up
i never cried
i remember that.
was it something to do
with endless dresses
shiny bows and
pretty shoes
did i really ask
to wear curtains and
wool tights
each day,
did i have no say?
i remember that.
maybe, it was
something else
entirely different
that cut the rope
that so bound us.
i stand, you stand
holding tethered pieces
separate, i wonder
would things be different
if we tried to glue them back.

confidence.

That exam. It broke me in two.
Your thoughtless actions. You exposed me, when I wasn’t ready.
All that ignorance. You never realised how much it meant, for you to understand.
Inspiration mutilated before my very eyes. Abandoned. What to do.
Fame and fortune; it suits you. You’ve made me wanting, a jealous fool.
Pen, after pen, after pen. They fall, from gaping wounds, escaping while they still can.
Why wouldn’t they?
For when the cartridge runs empty,
When the broken nib is shaking,
When the lid is lost and waiting,
How can one express mere feeling,
When there’s nothing left to say?

over and over again.

What is so appealing
About falling?
Like a slate-roof-tile
That doesn’t bounce
When it hits the rough, wet floor
It’s hardly fun
To smash to pieces
Over and over again.
Is it?

wading.

I’m standing on an ocean shore
Deserted, alone,
The tide breaks a mile away
Far from me as the sky
I can feel it, heavy, coming,
About to break
Then the thought escapes
And the waves are lapping
Around my waist
An idea; no more than a drop,
A tear, swelling in my mind
I’m dragged below the surf
Neck submerged, into the deep
The doubt comes creeping
Circling beneath ny flailing feet
Teeth bared, eyes darkest black
Surging upwards -
Like a rope in my hands
I feel it slipping
That cord of tension
Strand of fear, knotted
It falls away
I see it, I reach, outstretched
It falls away
I want to hold it back
Maybe I’m onto something
A meaning, a sign
Perhaps I’m not this way
inclined …
A whisper of smoke, its gone
By a swish of curls,
An incandescent smile
And I’m back standing
On this open shore
Clothes dripping, unsure why
And the label is slapped,
On my head, once again
For each grain of sand
To challenge and stare
My feet on dry land,
But my thoughts
Out at sea.

the buzzard.

A beam of light
Through purpled clouds
And there, the buzzard
On his wide wings drifting
Through open air, blushing sky
His lithe frame tilting
No ruler or refrain
Or chains to this crumpled land
Or stone, crevice and creed
And blistered greed
His high cry screeching
Through silence still, of the moors
He’s ever soaring
Higher than the mountains call
Gripped in his claws
The life before, of prey
He crushes, fair price to pay
For an endless day of
Sweeping, diving
Defying gravity and gale
No grasp can hold him
His deep, scarred eyes
Scour every valley, peak and rise
He misses nothing
The power, rippled in his bones
And feathers, stream-line
Fast and lonely
Existence adapted, perfected
To fly above and beyond
This lowly ground
His own master, a beauty crowned
In humble gold and brown.

that voice.

I could drown in the sound
Of her melancholy voice
So mellow and deep
I can feel that cool liquid running
Down the walls of my throat, as I listen
And scull in solemn words, sombre tones
My heart is soothed, my eyes slowly close
Not a murmur escapes my lips as they part
And allow the flood to fill my aching lungs
My the thirst, quenched,
By the rise and fall of every note
Her voice could melt the hardest ice, reduce glass
To the very grains of sand from whence it came.
I could drown in the luscious sounds
Of her melacholy voice
As wide, exposed as the ocean on
A clear winter’s night
Yet her gaze can set the rain alight
Each drop of water, cascading
Over rocks and glistening peaks
Glorious, they rest in cloud’s embrace
As her voice soars to touch the highest point,
Ever reaching to drown my mortal self,
Or something more,
Something more than this life.