Surface tension

Casting eyes to a blackening sky.
Shivering under circumstance.
Move this body to a state of change.
Sinking these broken teeth into something new.
It ripples in the heart and hangs heavy in the air.
A surface tension which paralyses.
It came up from the lava beds beneath.
Strummed, from the line to God.
This world swims in static like rain in the heat.
Fuzzing the wavelength and heralding pain.
It travels through these nerves.
That crimson city circuit beneath this skin,
which is fraying at the edges.
A thread of truth pulls like a vein to my heart.
Collapsing these teeth to the dust of a civilisation past.
It’s now the song in your chest.
Beneath the static pool of pressure lies the stone.
Dropped in by the devil years before to break the strain.
We swam in the sins of the moment.
Now this headache hangover heaves like yesterday’s terrible news.
And the stone sits under us, digging into our bones.
What breaks such tension?
What spirits such relief?
I look into chalky eyes and tired faces to find an answer.
It will lie, either in sleep or the deep.
For that’s where most fears shelter.
That’s where monsters are always slain.
Isotopic reactions, thundering like the rain.

 

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White bruise

Surface fed by the apple moon.
Glossy angle skin reflects the winter’s night.
A smile spread so thinly that truth threatens to break free.
Underneath and inside the storm settles.
Displaced pools of blood and memory wash into new courses.
Beneath never forgets.
Pale brown eyes reflect nothing but an illusion.
The fingerprints remained on my heart, long after you left.
It never shows as bitter.
But it burns in a cold fire that time will never quell.
Embedded words that stain this soul.
Never unseen by me.
Life tries to climb so high upon us now.
Never knowing how incomplete. How far I fell.
I stopped answering.
When you stopped believing.
And now this history spreads inside like a never fading white bruise.
Invisible to the future eyes that are now forbidden to go underneath.
I can see that in your lies.
That you would now only pretend to want to know.
Kissing this iceberg skin.
Numbed by the memories locked within.

Twist towards memories

We are changed forever.
Never the same.
Crawling out of this chrysalis.
Rubbing tired eyes with filthy fingers of the future.
Everything given, is repeated.
Everything stolen, is forever lost.
The future begins to fade like a dying star.
Caught and taken on the threshold of a coming storm.
Love came and went.
Permeated, then evaporated like the morning fog.
How we longed to be held safe in those arms.
Rocked into safety as the wind above howled.
But everything they gave, was taken away.
Everything promised, now sold.
Leaving broken bones and the residue of knowing.
A maddening knowledge of what the other sees.
A heavy heart feeling their need to go.
Now each evening I wave goodbye to the sun.
And welcome the loneliness of the moon.
But all too soon, it too departs.
And the rays that hit me in the dawn feel different and colder.
Re-birthed, repackage for tomorrow.
Threatening another day without you.

Seems forever lost?

We do not fade when you close your eyes.
Etched in stone, carved in lies.
Beneath those words please sympathise.
Something starts, when something dies.

And though it seems we’re miles apart
I commit to god for the pain to depart.
When megaliths fall, freedom starts.
And so will heal, your blackened heart.

Amber decay

Those eyes, like looking glasses.
Capture the world in a distorted array.
Seeped of all colour and upside down.
Turning around this fallen crown.
This sweet elaborate fantasy.
Dances on these teeth.
Pirouettes of plenty, singing in ivory.
Swallowed into that choking void.
Caught like fossilised plants trampled under dinosaur feet.
Extinguished, by the weight of their world.
What grief is there for time that is folded?
Pealed back by god, like the flesh off a wound.
Stings for the moment, heals in a heartbeat.
Forgotten by the time you wake.
You may search, yet only ever find bits of me.
The million little pieces that occupy space, time; dreams that don’t die.
Does it wriggle in your stomach, those dancing moments remembered?
Do I rip inside you skull when you wish to forget?
The hungry ghosts of me may feed forever on your soul.
Born of the schism between you and I.
For where I hoped we would be lost forever in time.
You hurried a much crueller demise.
In loving forever from a far.
Farewell this amber heart.
Precious only to the fact it survived so very long.

Bleed in backwards

It was packed so tightly that it all got stuck.
A love weeping in the sediments of us.
You can feel it rushing down that valley inside.
Crimson boats on a disappearing tide.
And though your mind seeks now to triumph.
This heart still whirls its stark defiance.
Against a gulf that keeps exceeding.
A pain that hurts and keeps repeating.
It calls upon sweet ancient magic.
The spell of love, to vanquish tragic.

Into white, my heart remains

We can’t remember the beginning.
And were ill prepared for the end.
You wipe these tears away with shaking hands.
Kissing where you know life begins.
Yet all we are now are bodies full of leaves.
Turned by the autumn of memories.
Dying inside, as your winter descends.
Freezing the love and covering all,
in white tragic space.

Death in neutral

Death comes, not in the sudden felling of your tree of life.
That monumental crash in the wooded realm of existence.
Or in an avalanche of silent demise,
Crashing into white off a precipice that follows a climb.
Death never leaves a new life.
It breathes silently on your skin.
Like a misty voice, cold and condensed.
Dew dropping its pain along the way.
Watching as your petals of life fall.
A new one each day.

Tsunami

We stand on the shore, called down by the ocean.
The sweet swell motions the blood.
Reminds me I am human.
I feel safe in this storm.
As the wind rushes these bones.
Threatening the inevitable damage, I wait for the change.
Holding out for such wild destruction.
This land knows me not, we are but visitors here.
Collecting coconuts of contempt that we store for every season.
Each man an island. Each one built on sand.
Atlantis parading in peril.
Off on the horizon the ship struggles.
Souls shuffle, towards that great divide.
For that I cry.
But the tempest suffocates.
Throws away my tears, out into the eye that hovers.
And weeps only painful laments.
God watching on, lifting no finger.
Remembering the flood.
Soon we are drowning, smashed by the waves.
Broken on the shore of our lives that already began to recede.
I crawled once from the sea.
And too it now, we have returned.
Scattered and in pieces.
Littering the ocean floor.

Feathers & down

This little prayer, whispered through tears.
Finds the wings of doves to reach the sky.
But the crows get there first.
Tearing it to pieces.
Ripping it to grief.
So the tears remain.
Staining a soul which flutters.
Like a fragile cry caught in a circumstance.
Splattering over a bleeding heart.
Soaking the feathers and down.

Life defected

She made herself lost, scratching out her own identity.
How easy the shadows consumed, filling in the voids.
Washing deep into the caves of her soul.
To disappear completely, to cut those cords.
The attachments hurt like rotting teeth.
The tear was quick, rip-trip-flick.
Out into the wide blue, putting an ocean of miles between;
that harrowing of self. The death of dreams.
To be lost entirely tickled her within. Feeling the butterflies rise.
Like when she was a child.
Tantalisingly fluttering on possibilities.
She followed the breeze, winding over roads of bad intentions.
Finding herself underneath rocks and inside the corpses of birds which flew too high to the sun.
She heard her own voice in every crash of a wave, and the cry of each night making way for the dawn.
Her reflection she saw, rippling in the sea of tranquillity and in the eye of god.
To be lost, was how she found her soul.
Cast away on that tiny little craft of self.
On no-one’s tide.
Swallowing only her own light.
This is how she hoped it could be, all lost of time and space and never found.
And still she floats, and dives and flies.
Further from the sun each day, hoping to escape her own Milky Way.

Damaged the same

Leave those words where they land.
Bury them in time and walk across the snow.
The stretched out ghost that hangs in the air.
In our lungs.
All fog and white, fading into a nothing.
How precious was that moment?
When the blood began to shed.
And the tears you bled, from another wound.
We come in pieces, all broken and jumbled.
Your religion tells us we are perfect, but still must change.
We are damaged the same.
Scuffed knees and dormant psychoses.
Jesus in a black bag.
Satan in a veil.
We are tripping over the rug of this world.
Spilling tea on the soul of saints.
Watching the cracks creak a little wider.
Filling the voids with gold.
But not lost souls, just painfully aware we are human.
Trying to return to paradise.
Following maps that are written in tears.

Red #3: Red like my heart

If I cut myself, will I find you?
Red, like my blood.
Swimming in ecstasy.
When the darkness prevails, you abandon us.
Leaving me alone with such lonely beats.
Of a heart struggling.
Like a clock unwinding.
You think this heart naïve?
It knows, but is unready to act like you wish.
To thump and rise, as you bang then blame.
Or tell it to stop completely.
Naivety makes way for inability.
Of acting against this sabotage.
Yet you are beyond such human fragility.
If I cut you, do you even bleed?
Would you leak a love all over me?
Flooding this space with such sweet honey.
Or should I let you fly.
And find you only in those heartbeats.
That synthesise a disappearing.
A pattern of a death so complete.
That it stains the world forever.
And heard across your universe.

Red #1: Red rain

Clumsily those bones broke.
Splintered and collapsed in the red rain.
An aching for all the world to see.
They want to give you cartoon kisses.
They want to trap your ghost.
You drag it all to the city limits.
Where there was once a river that used to run.
Under blue skies and summer sun.
Now the red rain washes only into your eyes.
Crimsoning your view of the outskirts.
What really is that thorn in your side?
What turned your bones to chalk?
You sit down by the apple tree, dyed a ruby red.
Nursing the self-made scratches.
Covering up the scars.
Who became you inside, when you true self fled?
Hanging your head is too easy, so raise it to the sky.
Push the bones back in place, silently cry in pain.
Wait for the flood.
From the sweet divine red rain.

Cold murmur

I will always find you there.
Where the winter turns on high.
Deep down in those memories.
Still you will try to assuage.
Cutting cloths of gold to patch and plaster.
Those were the delicate days.
Filled with stories and culverts where dreams were forming.
To reduce it down to youth is insulting.
You were wicked and wild, level headed in times of crisis.
We were shamed by your glory.
Manoeuvred into your frame to sparkle in the dying sun.
The forest claimed that reasoning.
Covered it in snow, the blood of the berries as our hurt.
Primitive was that love.
A vagrant call to the future with two fingers up at god.
All too soon it collapsed.
Shattered into blue.
You remained frozen in that time.
Dreams dipped in diphtheria, coughing up only blood.
As the rest melted into the tomorrow.
We find you locked in the frozen landscape.
We call into the woods to find you once again.
But you remain, cold and unforgiving.
Trapped in ice.

Lacerate

The sound of war orchestrally sings.
A symphony that echoes.
You clench your fist, and raise you wings.
The madman in you bellows.
And to that door, my eyes now move.
All exits, in thought retreating.
To leave you be, consuming me.
Your sacrifice now fleeting.
For every time you raise your voice.
And swear and shake anew.
I cannot see, or understand that choice.
In biting the hand that feeds you.

Downfall in disappointment

As it comes on with no surprise.
Like the lead in the paint that hangs on these walls.
The disappointment blooms, like you knew it would.
The little teeth of trust you let drop.
Like the milk bones of youth.
I will only disappoint, because you allow me to let you down.
You trap yourself in walls of expectation.
Painting them black and red.
Matching your eyes.
Which follow and watch with such greedy intent.
Drilling the holes in me that allows the dam to burst.
And flood this space with regret.
For these disappointments clink like the ice in your glass.
Unneeded, for you are already chilled to the bone.
Moving through the crowd, placing us like chess pieces.
High up on the pedestal.
Setting us all up to fall.

Enamoured

Are you ready, to drop from the sky.
For your bones to feel alive.
Forget that we’re miles apart.
Drift into the light, then dream and breathe me.
Be with me, as the night comes.
And time laps at our feet.
This is our moments colliding.
Walking away from hurt and the decay of yesterday.
Those healing words that rip across my heart.
That speak of times where a smile is etched across our lives.
An odyssey to tell by those we leave behind.
For these moments are precious and solitary to only us.
A grappling hand, in the chaos that today threatens.
Steadied and secure, cupped in my own.
In my eye line.
Which blazes with the light you offer.
Bottled, stowed and suffice.
Living. Here. Now.
Enamoured.

Shroud

Awaiting for the darkness to pass.
For a sting’s throb to relent.
Deep in this cave of uncertainty.
Where the buzz of doubt floods and overwhelms.
Yet there is a peek, a gentle stab at the white veiled sleep.
The sunshine finger of light that inquires into the bowels.
What beneath the shroud is alive or dead?
The smell of decay sits too absently now in the air.
You know what was buried there.
For you killed it with your departure.
Yet as the birds sing their larkening song.
That threatens a spring in winter.
So too the shroud is awakening.
Dropping its ghosts and mangled possessions.
To breathe and live once more.
And taste the April showers and life’s new blooms.