Trying not to breathe

Trapped under a bell jar, while the sun is silenced.
You put this in us. You creep into our bones.
Plucking the feathers from the birds of freedom.
You show us where the darkness grows.
This infection is massing.
Rampant, like you tongue.
A hatred and loathing that was born from a seed.
Deep without our own lungs.
The small parts of me.
Something other, that I cannot understand.
A difference in us as the night to day.
I’m trying not to breathe while the red mist rises.
A fractured state of things, little pockets of disconnect.
What horrors have you exposed?
Which queen of hearts have you disposed?
I pick the wild flowers of hope.
And tuck them into my sleeve.
Sniffing at a fragrance I wish to be within.
Smelling the chance of change.
With each barricade we rise.
A flood of ebb and flow which pulls at the mud below.
Pushing up to the crystal sky.
Smashing this glass that covers us.
This is our Vietnam. This is our Notre Dame.
Running wild out of the despair, into the arms of others.
Who breathe such cleaner air.

Advertisements

Save yourself/serve yourself

Now that we are so anaesthetised.
We settle for blankness.
Without any compromise.
You suck the soul from us every day.
Filling the void with countenance and suspicion.
Such a beautiful paradox, what a time to be alive.
So lazy by design.
You wear the masks of the familiar.
Cutting the ties that bind us to our future.
And who are we to utter, the silent stutter into separation.
Your IS desperation to keep us scared.
There is no oil here, only pits of anger.
Bubbling to the surface.
Such disturbance now at the house.
The roaring of a mouse, of a nation who were followers.
Now numbering the chorus that’s out of control.
Democracy hangs in the air, like the miasma of the 18th century.
Fogging London once more with a noxious distaste.
We all wear our own tin foil crowns.
Crunching the bones of despair.
The Fear of standing for something.
I am but one of many, lounging in my paralysis.
A self-inflicted state of disconnect.
Waiting for the numbness to arrive.

Pretty protections

When you summoned your tempest.
And the gods all heard.
Sending shockwaves and blame that came down in floods.
Landing on me like freshly fallen snow.
A target of your manic fuelled rage.
No more.
No longer the substitute for the all the blank spaces.
The vertebras you want to crack and walk upon.
All this egg shell laden land, dulled of the green you promised.
Conjures more towel throwing.
Yet still I remember the days where you fixed my crown.
And only coughed into the night of life.
Yet these frequent occasions  gather like the monsoon rains.
Always on time and unpredictable.
Soaking me through with tears of regret.

Outward ink

Where do you go, when the anger shows?
The pulsing in the veins.
Threatening to tear the skin.
I close my eyes. I need such protection.
My blood is as thick as oil, and my heart as black.
Why do the things you say splinter me?
Rising my inner mercury.
My hands vibrate to sonic sound.
Angels crying, and a war in heaven.
The fury felt through a thousand decades.
Torn from the very books that celebrate such divinity.
These thoughts and callous kisses close in.
Peeling back my lips to bare these well-worn teeth.
The bones break and shift.
Ascending my temples as you try to look away.
But look deep within this life.
Into these blackening pools of my eyes.
Do any of us win?
Struck skin and nitroglycerin on the tongue.
Blossoming florets of purple that do not smell sweet.
They only anaesthetise me in an opium blur.
Sending my skull into the floor.

Swimming to safety

Sat looking for the interruptions, dusting steel.
Climbing through barbed wire.
Coating the shattered glass with honey; that you make me lick.
Boxed up emotions, humming through a phone wire.
Twisting around us, seeping into my bones.
Swim with me in stupidity. Duck and cover until we drown.
They come into our little scene, gravitated by the angry words.
Goody gumdrops, the fall of Rome. The fall of the house of Usher.
The fall between states.
Leaving me here like coins lost down a couch.
Waiting for fingers to rescue me, to touch me deep.
(Please don’t try and tempt me now)
I’m heading in a new direction, so don’t tell me all these dreams are fake.
Sitting still and dodging catapults.
Ashamed to know you lost. Scratching words into me like ‘believe’.
Unbolt me and take me apart. Categorise and sermonise in your hypocrisy.
Shove me back into the truth.
We all go back to where we belong.

Lexicon and lightning storms

Play those words like cards, split from the stacked deck.
Forever in your favour.
I’m tripping, and sticking to the toffee words on your tongue.
You led me here, with poisoned breadcrumbs and the promise of perfection.
Your mouth looks so tempting, as clean as an oven.
I tried to be all for you, without crucifying who I was.
Your spear of our destiny digs in deeper, seeing what’s left inside.
Blood and broken dreams frozen in tears.
Spill me, fill me. No longer thrilling me with thoughts of tomorrow.
The dark clouds roll in and I see your quickening quarrel gather speed.
I put up my umbrella towards the oncoming deluge, fixing the weather vane to my heart.
Swirling in the confusion, the hurricane of you anger.
I let go and drown in the onslaught of your hypocrisy.
Battered against your will, struck by your electric storm.
Drifting in the debris of you and me.

Combat(ing)

Simple words that cut me down the middle.
Do you know the shock-waves?
They effortlessly drip off your tongue.
I look away.
You go primeval, you lash and rage like a savage.
The maddening reasons of the realistic and selfish.
These scars that I show, the ones that never healed, they bleed again.
Oozing out blood and hurt like long forgotten wars.
Not ready for this skirmish, your monologues of conflict.
Declamations shake me to my soul and make me shiver out a recourse.
This moment smashes into my future, obliterating my plans.
You dance the tribal dance of difference, circling the fire and the thoughts in my mind.
I walk away from the flames and carnal look in your eyes, with tears in my own that decorate my skin.
The sound of drums fade, but never disappear completely.