Torn

Like the lost that leads the blind.
We are all selfish and unkind.
Trapped inside with a perfect view.
Of all the hate that tears us into.

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Stalling

A rusted heart, worn by tears.
Breaking down, in a broken town.
This heartbreak city of shattered dreams.
The water got into the fuel.
The hate got into the love.
Churned and exhausted all.
How long were we running on empty?
As the metal flayed and tore into our flesh.
Juttering to a stop, a stalling of hearts.
Roll down the windows of our eyes, and see where we have ended up.
A place I hate to be, detoured and gotten lost.
The wheels are coming to a stop.
Stalling, and likely to forever remain.
Or to corrode in your acid rain.

Hate

The weight of hate, is too heavy to hold.
Lost in an illusion of lead turned to gold.
It deadens my heart with its poisonous grip.
Forcing my soul to abandoned ship.
So my ghost sails on, unfurling the rope.
That drags out behind, never snagging on hope.
Yet your lighthouse before me, beckons my fate.
You full of light, will surely banish my hate.

Empty waves

In the night, when the velvet dark covered my skin.
We walked the beach, feeling each grain of time beneath.
To look into the sky, was but to cast over a hundred million jewels.
Twinkling there like possibilities.
The ocean, so vast and endless lulled me with its tune.
And the ocean spray tempted me at first.
Drawing me in with ideas of Atlantis.
But now, the harsh sun burns down.
Cooking the salt in these wounds.
Listening for you in empty shells.
And now, all that’s left;
is to hold my breath before your tsunami.

Extirpate

Shivering into this new world.
Of a day broken over me like the sunshine egg yolk of realisation.
That an absence now fills this room.
A void as cold as winter, that settles into these bones.
Reborn into a version of such violence and void that my head aches into grey.
And my heart, slips away; into adjustment.
You folded us into memory.
A slight of hand that speaks with a voice of your reasoning.
Echoing now in my ears.
And my tears will turn to chalk.
While the plants die all around me.
A fate that flutters on my lips, like butterflies trapped in conservatories.
Glancing at the world around, yet smashing again and again against the glass.
Yet still you toil and dig at the weeds of my entanglement.
That curled around you like a summer’s blanket.
And you sheer, and slice.
Digging hard at my roots. Killing me a thousand times over.
Praying I rot away and turn into time.

Calcination of a dying angel

A flicker in a flame that sets the beat.
Ticking over the tock of a time unravelling.
This flame that scotches the hands that hither.
Trying to love and caress, only to be burnt.
Those feeding fingers that crisp.
The smell of burnt skin and hurt.
Yet a call from within threatens mountainous shifts.
That this life of fire will burn to ash.
And a darkness will follow.
One where we can move without ever being noticed.
For in the dark, we can truly see ourselves.
And I will once again think of running away.

Engulfed

Coming up for air, and stealing the sun.
How long can I live underwater?
Pushed to drowning by the weight of your departure.
Collapsing like time.
Peeling the skin off my life like the rind off an orange.
Covered in mess. Bloody and sticky.
Yet nothing washes away.
Nothing drifts, except the pain into tomorrow.
And once again I’m fighting for air.
Alone, battling the waves.

You won’t, but you might

Please don’t hurt me, you don’t understand.
It’s my heart that is beating, bleeding there in your hand.
And forgive this emotion and whispering plea.
But it longs to be loved, not stamped and set free.

As it’s nearing the end, the potential is high.
For it to crumbled right there, and for this dream to die.
So I ask you again, as I would an old friend.
To think for a moment, to heal and then mend.

Then keep it safe in your heart, swimming in blood red and dark.
A scar on your soul, as we fade and grow old.
Then kiss me and say, you’ve decided to stay.
And all the shadows you will chase away.

A Quieting of souls

It was raining…
No, actually I don’t think it was. Stories always begin that way. The weather playing an integral part. The rain slashing at the windows, the eyes to the soul. From what I recall it was a nothing weather day. The ones that blend and blur into the stretching days of the week. Important by its unimportance, as time drips away in huge heaps. How many of those days have I been witness to? Sloshing back and forth in a maddening storm of banality.

There’s that weather again. I guess feelings are easily expressed through the elements.

His heart was like a rock. Nothing metrological about that only that his mind changed as much as the weather. A rock hewn from some mighty mountain full of pride and ego. It sat there, darkening the earth around it, blocking out the sun.

Bitterness does not belong in the tale, bitter people are weak, and after all I have endured weakness is not a trait within me.

No, I was not bitter by things. Embittering, but not in a nasty way. A useless endeavour besides, for the guard was up now and the rock grew stronger. Covering itself now in a gaudy shell of diamonds, harder than its innards. Tacky as rhinestones, but known to be genuine for its talk of money. I wish he held me that close. Kept snug in his pocket like a twenty pound note.

So that day, a Wednesday…it had to be really. A hump of a circumstance that found me at home. Pacing my bedroom and rearranging my clothes. Perhaps rearranging my life on some distant astral plain. Parting and subdividing atoms into a new river course. One to take me back to where it was brighter, lighter, and out of the woods. But there, in that existence I was to be found emptying draws. Kicking up dust and emptying the bins.

He let himself in. The key to my heart along with the apartment jingled in his pocket, next to his sweaty thigh. Calling out at the bottom of the stairs, I came to see him there. Framed in the hallway. Beckoning. His mind all talk of departure. Of spiriting himself away for a greater good that I had no right to be a part of. But his mouth did not utter these constant thoughts yet.

I would not descend. Calling out that I was busy upstairs and for him to come up. A grumble, a mumble of words strung together in irritation. Yet he came. Trouncing up the stairway like Melelaus into Troy.

The music from my world surrounded us, light strings of an orchestra hastening the end. I knew it then, with that look in his eye. The thousand ships of pain launched to plunder. Endings start at loves divergence. And though I sat and listened, my heart was collapsing. How much is justified? What is dredged up in departure? He touched me, needlessly. A patronising positioning of a hand on my knee. Asking me if I understood, asking me to have self-respect enough to let things be. It was then my soul grew still. Flanked on each side by a hurrying wind. Yet more weather. But it was the eye of the storm. A static electric hum encircled our souls, waiting for the collapse.

And it came. And they both remained silent. Mine, broken and shattered from an arrow to the chest.
His, laying crumpled at the foot of the stair. A twisted mess of bone and bruising. Seeping a love, that was no longer mine.

Of course, the day changed then. Going from the mundane to the maddening as I set ablaze to rival the burning of Troy. Maddening only for those caught up in the chaos. The firefighters and the old woman who lived in the apartment next to mine. The concern for the cat that always used to come and shit on my balcony, and who at times doused with water. I don’t know if it ever turned up, though everyone got out fine. As the smoke filled the sky above me, new clouds threatened to keep me under a strange world.

Fugitive is a rather ugly word. It implies something has been done wrong against a system which is good. What did I flee really, a broken heart. A life smashed into a thousand pieces after years of toil and care.

No, I would not say I am criminal; though my mind may have easily slipped into narcissistic notions of self-survival. But just that instead, a survivor. In the dark and in the quiet, while all around me life creaks to an unknown day; I hear the tiny clink of my soul, slowly coming back to life. Tiptoeing carefully back into the orchestra pit, hoping to make beautiful music once more.

And obviously, now it is sunny. The rains never trouble me.

Weapon of choice

It’s so hard, just to peel back the truth.
Like folding back the sky.
Propping up heaven while we renovate.
Dusting under the throne, sweeping under the rug.
How much is caught in your eye?
As the verbal rocks are thrown?
Hammering now in your head.
Leaving idealism to another time, another life.
Dropped in the ocean to be covered in coral.
We slaughter the fledgling feelings, new to hope.
Eager to walk in the sunlight holding hands.
We never understand, how to break the cycle.
Going round and round. Like a falling plane.
Spiralling, tumbling, freewheeling to the ground.
You pin the medal of victory to your chest.
Pricking the skin, letting the blood flow.
Straightening your soul, patting your ego on the back.
Mumbling incoherently the art of war.
Driving your tank over the art of love.

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.

Beyond the edges of reason

How did they pluck the flowers of me?
The budding explosion of perfume and pride.
Each one pushed through such dark deep earth.
The soil and shit of a life in this age.
With their eyes they take.
With their hands they snatch.
Groping and tearing at the petals of my mind.
To say the tears watered the earth, sullens those drops so innocent.
Muddies the pools in which my heart swims within.
So I keep them out.
I fence it in.
Planting pansies in the mouth of the weeping willows.
Building the trees tall that they reach up to heaven.
Where I can make my escape.
To plant fresh seeds in the lunar lawns of eternity.
Alone and content, to watch it all from space.

Emotional oxidation

That troubled fire, occupying this traumed mind.
Fire, burning through thoughts of you.
Turning on time and the small electric heartbeats.
You were my king of birds.
Always taking my higher.
Wax these wings and claim indifference.
Leaking out a light that shone for miles around.
This burning flame within.
Scorching the soul and causing such havoc.
Where do the memories of me rest?
Floating in your sky like claustrophobic clouds.
Or sunken in your Atlantian ocean of remorse.
I know I cannot swim, and these wings are bound.
The fire spread.
The ashes turned to time.
And the wind took me away forever.
That winter breeze that froze you over.
Settling the snow for all time.

Drenched departure

Untied the silence while the rain came.
Blanketing this world is a quiet monsoon.
Layering and prevailing over me, and all I see.
Let it seep into those muddy bones.
Washing everything. Purify and personifying a state of being.
Fresh like holy water.
Stinging the sins like acid.
Drown and choke underneath those silent waters.
A vast tide that you wash over me.
Those days that were always numbered.
The borrowed time and delicious decay of it all.
How sour those words met my mouth when I asked you to leave.
Tying my tongue into confused states.
Separate states and traumatic time zones.
The flight into a new world where the clouds coughed around me.
And the skylarks sung our demise.

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.

Quit quiet qualm

You struggle to breathe now.
With guilt filling your lungs like water.
Careful not to break.
To run a ground on regret.
Problems that seemed better in the morning.
Bare on your skin like the sun of the rising zodiac.
Crawling with your Taurus tendencies.
Your face fails to fill my eyes, contorted and hidden.
Peeping in and out of truth and reality.
Slipping into the past like an exit manoeuvre.
Weightless, like your words.
Faithless and scared.
That toe dip into the world or the righteously misled.
As the dam breaks, and the clouds sigh in sadness.
Washing me in the rain of your ghostly tears.
A phantom I left two minutes before you even knew what you were doing.
Coincidence or grand design?

Argue

What did they tell you about this future?
While your TV played on and you half listened.
This heart you mangled and molded.
These flowers died a long time ago.
Who is to blame?
Distance. Family.
Your fake departure, when your heart wasn’t in it.
I made this too easy for you.
Red letter days and disappointments. Plastic friends.
Those that melt in the heat while the kitchen burns.
Who dries your eyes now?
Lazarus lies, housewives. Shopping that ego.
Choking on the need to be right.
All those lies have now been tagged.
Selfish. Self-aware. Convenient amnesia.
All built on your version of events.
Under rug sweeping, these broken pieces of a person you once knew.
Only you.
As you blur once more into everyone else.

Sting

The rapid heartbeats within me, shake me like a train track.
You drip through the air like mercury.
Holding your titanium crown aloft for the world to see.
Silently the world waits, as I hold my breath and disposition.
You swim to me in an ocean of darkness.
Bringing destruction that clouds my mind like ink.
Each words carefully uttered, flipped away with an arrogance you wear like skin.
They bruise and dent me, beating me up like a tin can in the street.
Silky words those lips sometimes utter, liked boxed poems and chocolate.
A look that can roll me in sugar.
Not today though.
Now is the time of toxic temperaments.
And words that cut like a knife and sting.
I can’t be immune as you turn your back on me.
So let me cry my eyes out into your ocean;
so you’ll never see them fall.

Endeavoured

Don’t you like this honesty?
This radio station that plays nothing at all.
Just truth.
Echoing in the words dripped form your lips.
I should learn to be thankful.
Where do you run to when my anger shows?
Out of the forest, out the woods?
With unstable ground, mine pocked and hazardous.
Running to find salvation.
Searching for confrontation,
Drill a hole into my soul and let the light in.
Burning white light. Let it wash away the tar.
This tonne of hurt weighted through my veins.
A soul starved of understanding. Just meandering, through this grey world.
Your flesh and bone, covering a soul still unknown.
Asking for directions.
Though strange lands, your heart is still home to me.

Sea salt on my skin

Not looking for anything to interrupt this morning.
Yet came it did.
Hurried through these bones like a freight train.
Cutting me deep.
Such hurt on the telephone.
Transistor tears and unravelling years.
Wiping away tomorrow.
Those words.
Not letting me.
Melted down like mediocrity.
One wish was to take me to higher ground.
To say goodbye.
As the waves lapped at my feet.

Holding back the waves

Heat rivals such memories.
Burning a hole through my soul.
Desert licking as my heart contorts.
Coughing up a dry dusty apology.
Limp in the midday sun.
Yet still I stand, awash with remorse and resolve.
Unable to drown in your sorrow.
Afraid to swim in your sadness.
Washed up, I watch as your gather all your hope.
Bottling shooting stars and dreams.
Plucking shadows from me, stuck on this ship.
As it rains on us.
I once tried to drain your oceanic heart.
My eyes dissolved from all the tears.
Washed away in the monsoon rains.
So you sit and wait.
Waiting for someone else to care.
At your water’s edge.
Where you still find me, threatening to jump.
Threatening to retreat.
Still hoping to save you.
Trying to hold back the waves.

Human

Where is that holding hand, as I slip through the sand of regret?
Being merely human falls flat at your well-trodden feet.
The ones that walked on my back time and time again.
Do you care if my soul survives this?
Scratching away the scars to save yourself.
These sad tears of remorse carve a path down my broken bones.
Crashed through the barrier as I pushed my foot to the floor.
You flew away to save yourself. You left me there dying.
I gave my all and fell short.
Closing my eyes to the judgement that I cannot live up to.
So easy to throw the page away.
To burn the books.
So tired of being only human.