Afterthought (side B)

He lay on the bed and watched the clouds out the window.
With closed eyes he felt the storm.
Vibrating the hairs on his skin like ghosts passing through.
He buried himself of course, there on his bed.
Sinking into the sheets like a body into a grave.
He was dead from the waist down.
Waiting for the little chalky helpers to plunge the skull.
But the water he felt was from the rain, which tapped at his brain.
Droplets of doubt and remorse.
Tidal fantasies of being swept away.
Yet forever he would lay, in that state of not doing.
Making love to paralysis with the sweet relief of excuse.
He died three days ago, yet still he talked.
Arguing with god, cursing the devil.
Gnawing at the skin of self in a heated display of shame.
He’d known death before of course.
It rattled and moaned around his house since that day.
That awful Tuesday when they left.
He had grown new skin. He had tried to begin again.
But death remained a friend, like a wad of gum stuck in his soul.
He blamed it, he shamed it. He cursed and versed in vain to it.
It was there now, the sad spectator to an actual demise.
Apathetically sweeping up the dust, like one would make a bed.
That bed which heaved with the weight of his guilt.
Throwing out the dreams that played on the ceiling.
While the nightmares wormed underneath.
That bed which was his last embrace now.
Peppered in petals that masked the thorns.
Intimately feeling its way underneath his skin.
And swallowing him forever, in the dandelions of demise.

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Rush the future

Speak to me in delicious dreams.
The weighty shrouds yearning to be unravelled.
Long have we both lay dormant.
Pooling words and hurt inside these broken bones.
Ignition sparks from redemption.
Static colossal movements, like the heavens shifting.
And pain retreating.
The covering of clouds which take us far away from here.
Feeling the future like precious see through gold.
Ecstatically we disappear.

Spurning

A crease at first, swathes of folds.
Swan feather skies reaching into your skin.
A rip in the sky setting the heavens loose.
Pouring over the world.
You dragged the stars over the equator.
Eclipsing the gold flashes of sunken treasure.
Yet the tears felt dry, and the time faded once more.
You are out sync. You disconnect.
Turning to face the sun once more.
Raising your hands to heaven.
Crying once again in the red rain.

Palpate

To make you consider, that what I see is real.
To crack this skin like a mirrored pain.
A reflective love dancing on the wings of happiness.
Clouded and scorched.
Licked and honoured.
A crumpling vision of everything.
Tapping now at this skull.
Did I force you to reconsider.
What treasures remain.
Whether it’s me, happy inside you.
Or just a vast ocean of pain.

It always rains in my memory

I never let the weeds grow there, but the vines took hold.
Choked out the light and freedom for us both.
That place, darkening now the harder I remember.
You said you’d always meet me there.
Where the street and the sorrow fell away.
Reach for me you said, and you can touch my face.
The essence of divinity here on earth.
Now you shimmer like a diamond, caught in the empty space of time.
Untouchable, yet desired. Clouded by invisible hands.
I always smiled in these places. These foggy bits of the past.
You did that. You put this thing in me that forced the change.
Drew the happiness out like an antidote to sadness.
The weighting of you, and the love that cocooned.
But you have departed on the winds of indifference.
Blown out to sea, lost forever in the sinking ship of us.
In the darkness which suffocates and strangles.
Leaving me conscious, but only just; to see the wreck I’ve made.
And now, it always rains in my memories.
Blanketing my world in water.
But nothing ever washes away.

Tears of the Gods

His heart, now the colour of his wife. Broke apart.
The urn smashed, scattering them both across the clouds.
As the volcanoes rumbled and the gods groaned.
Down they both came in the rains.
Licked up by the wood spirits and the humans below.
Pooling in the heart of the world, flecks of life;
and the cast down tears from Olympus.

Lap of the Gods

His brow, wet from the rain, cast skyward.
A heart yearning for explanation and soothing.
His climb monumental, each step a weight of a world.
The spirits plucked his heartstrings like a lyre.
Coursing a music in his soul.
The mountains surrounded him, closed in like monsters teeth.
A wife held close still.
Tiny grey fragments on his skin, parted only by an urn and disbelief.
Soldiering on, he watched Apollo bury the light for another day.
Darkening his journey and settling into his bones.
Light air and fables coiled around him as he reached the summit.
The fates had been wrong, he was to die on the ascent.
Strangled in the thin air and half-hearted inclination.
Here’s mud in their eyes he thought as he looked beyond the clouds.
A flickering light, and eye to mystery.
Shimmering into view like many untold stories spat from a fire.
The great mount, the seat of all and the divine rose into view.
His heart melted into honey as the sight expanded in his eyes.
Before it turned to stone, unable to stand the wonders before him;
knowing the climb had just been steps towards the sacred.
Tiptoes on the precipice at the edge of the world.

Lost in the faraway

The conjuring dreams.
Of moments in time.
Love lost on your lips.
Your hand in mine.
Kicking this cactus heart around.
Fresh like mint on my tongue.
Calling you out of the clouds.
Out of my bones that feel as heavy as China.
One of those falling dreams.
Like you’re here.
But still gone.