.i like to feed things inthrough my mind and then pull themright out of my chest when they'redone,put it on paper and call ita poem, feed itback into the brainand repeat, butanxiety says justlet this stuff go -cough up those wordsthat you've got in yourchest and dust off theshelf in your lungs, feelthem one last time if you wantbut please, send them away intheir poems, and quicki'm realsorry buti'm just notdone with themyetthere's nopoetry dripi can ripfrom the backof my handand my neck,can'tdischarge myselffrom this one(chew it up, spit it out)
.lies can slipthrough your teethwith ease,the truthgets caught inyour throat(i wish it was a lie, that i'm your flesh and blood and i wish it was the truth, that i hadn't been drinking)
.there issomethingabouthow you can makeall the animalspart themselveswith one wave ofyourhand,make them opentheir throats andspeakand i think i willfind you sticking pinsthrough the webbingof a bat's wing,cross legged inthe garden withthe snake aroundmy neck,that's how i'd liketo go(the world will shift, a heart will break away from it's chest, tectonic)
.did you spendlast night diggingin my graveyard of a chest?i seem to have a holethis morning -where did you putyour heart youbitch, i know youmust have one theresomewhere,and when the light letsitself in throughmy bedroom curtains,i will always sayget fuckedfuck offfuck yougo fuck upsomeone else,do you still crackyour knuckles when you'reangry? take twosugars with yourtea, carry a scythe?well i carry the devilin from the car when he's tootired to walk, he tugsat my sleeve with his littlered fists, says i know howhard it is to get closureon somethingthat makes you feelripped wide open, mate,now carry me in i'm tootired for all this tonight -oh, one more thing,the shore can never leavethe seano matter how hardit tries, again andagain, you're going to getfucked by the current,so just go with the flowit gets better,spend the rest of yourlife laying in thatbed you made,spend the rest of yo
.and god-i saw the moonleaking into the sea,a great big silvery slickon the wavesand as i held my hands upto the hole in her side,she smiled and soakedinto me(gentle, gentle, she doesn't have long)
.if thesewalls couldtalkthen i'm surethey'd bescreamingget out,burn usdown,we can'tbearto hold youanylonger(been too busy dreaming to get any sleep)
.my bedroomsuffocates me,so sometimes i climbout the window andcurl up on theroofinstead,there used to be a treedown the side that kept hisarms open for mebut he said i don't thinkyou're ever gonna knowhow it feels to bemidasor medusa,you know you'vealready got a heartof gold and eyesof stonei said nowyoudon't getto touch me(i can drop down into the alley from here, or sit with the cat like a gargoyle)
.some need to know lifelike the beasts do, the heronthe stray dog the cobra the salmondead in it's stream,but i want to shed out of my skin,don't want to be no white ghost no moreand i met a magician, got rid ofthe dirt in my mind,pulled my memories outof my temple like napkins,made a mess i couldn't clean upon the pavement outside, no tip for him,you're gonna have to excusethe mess in my soul, i wasn'texpecting visitors,been pleading with words for anexplanation, came home late last nightsmelling of someone else's ink,i think i saw the light then buti heard the darkness too, i kicked themout, now it's just me and mycrazy i keep in a tank,watch him grow limbs and climb outover the side, and now sometimeshe sits on my lap and i stroke him,but he's getting too heavy to hold andhe's starting to speak for himself,says don't drink that be goodi need you and you need me and youknow it, i don't think you can evertruly know someone until you can admitto yourself t
.he said there are a lot of things in lifethat don't make sense,i said i know,like that time i laughed so hard at the wakei had to stay out in the garden making small talk with the smokersfor the rest of it,like the time i shut myself in the garage and went to sleepin the backseat of your car,and how i'm not at all religious but i sat in church that day withmy hands clasped andi prayed,how i kept the windows shut that sunday so what i prayed forcouldn't get in,like the time i watched her throw your stuff out on the driveway,and when she managed to smash those plates even withher broken wrist, how most hearts start to sink when tempers rise,and the time i wanted to cradle that dead pigeon i saw at thetrain station, and you told me to answer the phone and i wouldn'tbecause i knew it was you,and when the night comes calling i always let him in,i'm never quite sure who he is, but he sayshe's paid for it so now i better fuckingdrink it,he says haven't you learnt by now
.i want to scrapethe shell off the earth,try and give birth tosomething muchbetter,mould it and feed it and let itset out on its own to beloved,and now, bear cubdon't be sogrizzly,they'll make goodmoney from mum'sclaws and coat,mount her head on thewall by yourbrothers(always dreaming of a blind alley, and this is not a poem, just another ball of paper, throw me into the sun i want the last of the heat to be mine)
.i think you know of hair wound tight round a hand like ropeof thoughts that sail in and let down anchorin the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watchhis eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose nowin their pits like marbles, they say he knowsi have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved handlike a weed and stared in disgust, it's only naturalthat you should still want to sleep with one arm overyour head, she said, don't you think?i think the sun lit upthe world's scarsand felt bad, hung its headthrough the horizonand cried in shamenow i don't think it's evergoing to stop raining(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
.and goddess,this isn't something i cansweat or starve out of me,i'll have to write and it willbe madness,see i've often thought aboutplacing my head in the pestleand mortar, i wonder if i couldgrind out the hell inside, becomea red pulp on the worktop, andeven the oven keeps tutting at me,it's so easy, just open the doorstick your hand in, feel his forkedtongue on your palm,orange lover, youknow you'rea cowardfor thisand it's truethat the dead are never reallysilent, they grunt and they groanin their damp soil sheets,toss and turn overagain(fill the bath with water, and just drop me in it)
.i neverlearned thelanguageof flowers,never knewwhy thenettlespat itswords at mewith venom,why thosegreenforkedtonguesleft asting(i bet the sheep don't lose a wink over the starving wolves, either)
.i don't believethat if you can dream ityou can do it,cos i once dreamt thati killed atlas,i tore him limb from limb and theni stabbed the globe he held,watched itdeflate,and sometimes i get sadabout the children in the worldwho will choke on all the wordsthat they'll never learn to speak,and there's a baby somewhere garglingthe meaning of his life,and he's a little bit upset that youkeep wiping itaway(i have no words for you)
.i walk into the garden at3am, find death digginghis own grave in the middleof my lawn, he says he'sdead to me now, he canjust feel it in his bones,points at the mud and saysdirt is dirtit can't pretend that it'sanything else,oh and i found that peg you lost,it was under the conifer,climbs in covers himself and leavesme standing alone(keeps sending me postcards, i wish you were here)
.i often ask myself questionsand answer them too,maybe tell yourkids this,that i'm the wolf in the woods, i justsaw red and couldn't help it, whatcan i say i've got atemper, i couldn't waitto grip her neck insidemy jaws n shake it, snapit clean, cracked like a twig,you see she was a bitch she was awhore, she had itcoming, with hersweet laugh and her lips, herswaying hips inside, she carrieda rifle in her cloak, she wantedmy pelt for the angry winter,and her old gran? i suckedthe meat fromher lame ribs like she'd have donethe same to mine, i licked mychops and got inbed,had good sweet dreams untilthat axe man, that old drunk,who thought he had some bigger ballscame stumbling in through her frontdoor,they found his gutson the hall floor,and i can stillsmell it amileoff -but what i'm sayingkids, the moral is,there's nothing little bout the amountof red you're gonna see inlife, it's all about whether or notyou've got the stonesto fucking stomach it(
.a mother says to her soncan you feel the world lodgedin your rib? do not tellme you can't, it's right thereand let's not tell godanything about this, let's givehim the silent treatment likehe's giving to us,sometimes i wake up wantingto shred myself into ribbonstie me up in a bow and send myselfto your doorstep with noreturn address and let you deal with it,you're not listening and you're notunderstanding, you're too busytrying to read all the text, buti can go days without speakingone word, got a habit of holding mybreath diving into my own mindfor hours, blue bottomless poolriver veins with the bones of a dreamdrifting through, some stuck on thebanks all dried up and thirsty, thisshark tooth reminds me of you so ipress it in hard, still not one singledrop, a baby raccoon floats by withno life but wide eyes, i know you'llpray the horned god sends himstraight to the sea, drown him outwith that voice that says maybenext year when you search foryourself, yo
.tonight across the street i sawthe devil sneak into god's garden;he took trowel in hand, planted seedsin the earth, grinned real wide andshut the white gate behind him(gonna come up smelling of roses)
...i'd like to see the stars, falland kiss themoon.i'd make a wish as they'd shatter its glowinto a million little pieces, andscatteracross the seas.one day, these lights will goout; one day, that wish will cometrue.[shut your eyes and imaginethe end]
i really want to...i allowed the word to curlagainst the ceiling of my mouth.cradling the absence of astorm that never cameroosting over rafters of anote stretched far too long.seeping through my teeth andpulling moisture from the rain. "fly"
RealHow can you expect to see the truth in the mirror?When your eyes are clouded by the filter of 'inferior'
I Wish You DeadSometimes I wish you dead.I confess it,there are times when my thoughts lose controland cartwheel like a plum blossomthats failing to fight gravity,sometimes I wish you dead.I hope you wish me dead too.I hope that you see my dissected bodywith my rib cage cracked open and spreadlike the legs of a fifteen year old whorewho braces herself against a rapistfor a semblance of affection.I hope you watch my lungs contractand you hate it.Hope you wake up and praythat today will be my lastand that my plutonium heart will extinguish.Sometimes, I wish you deadbecause I know how deeply you sufferand I've seen the decades of painand the broken behavioural patternsthat mean the agony is unlikely to end for youI've seen you,I've seen you dehydrated and witheringfrom crying, seen you wilt.Seen your pulverised hopestruggle to maintain a baselineas your head and heart beg; no more.Sometimes, I wish you dead.I hope you wish me dead too.I hope that you see my veinsare filled
Sound of RainThink for a moment: Is the sound of rain, truly what you are hearing?Imagine this, you're sitting there in your underwear (don't try to pretend you're not). It's raining outside and you've been browsing the internet for the past seven hours. It's already 3:13 a.m. in the morning and a sudden hint of nervousness seizes you. It's silly really, you don't have to attend school, nor do you have work in the morning, but somehow you still feel as though you should force yourself into bed.You crawl under the covers and bring the blanket up to your chin. Your mind runs over all the things you've done today and you stare at the ceiling, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed, listening to the sound of rain as it goes pitter-patter on your window. Yet, somehow, the rain sounds different tonight. You feel a strange sinking in your chest and a rising sensation of fear.The pitter-patter no longer sounds like gentle droplets of water hitting the glass. It sounds more
you're so blind.here i am drowningand you have no idea what to do,you're so lostand panicking.why don't you take your handsoff my shoulders?
.you buried me deep and called it a triumph,but you never realized -I'm a seed.
contrast without the compare.when i look in a mirror,i don't see what i ami see everything i'm notand can never be.
.hatredis in labour,would givebirth toforgivenessif i let it(no)