your lips spill truthyour ardour pearls into cups to catch my eyesyour lips spill truth9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
but we do not fall for weakness; pin pricks beneath
my toes and i keep falling
your empty hands caress the washed streets of my cheeks
but too late for the deluge
you stroke tomorrows downstream
you are a word i suddenly remembered the meaning for
misusing it this whole time,
i feel such a fool.
im caught in an updraft of your hello
the easy way that smile turns into my name
turns to a frown
im seducing the last traces of your nonchalance
beckoning him out with promises
i sense your lips do lie, but we both know
a kiss can last forever and
forever can end with a kiss.
no thingi know my name is different on every tongue utteredno thing9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
i know my voice is heard in your way, not mine
i know whatever i release into their world, it can never be mine again
i know that holes in walls can't be glued back together with kisses
i know that once i finally wash these clothes i can still smell you
i know giving up on things for sakes of someone's elses will only make me worse
i know that following old pathways will only lessen my resolve
i know that laying in my supposed self-delusion is only re-enacting my adolescence
i know that allowing myself to open up will only end in destruction
i know that falling into old habits is what always saves me
i know that not allowing myself will only bleed me dry
i know that i should shoot the birds and not myself
i know these words look better on paper than anywhere else
i know that my memories default to what i like to lie to myself about
i know the edges come out clearer when i look red razor eyed
i know the cracks appear when i stop drinki
If you keep your eyes closedI start, but I begin to faulterIf you keep your eyes closed9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
catching myself on cliffs of wind chapped lips
gnawing uncertainty with white spears
(oh native tongue)
what's spinning you?
The bastard child that thinks I'm a yo-yo.
I begin again, only to fall into
the same too big for you shoes, same glazed (aspartame laced) over smile,
and you. you are... a loss of anything to say
becoming y.I was brought up well.becoming y.9 years ago in Transgressive More Like This
My mother taught me to feel guilty about everything.
And of all the boys that ever flailed their cocks at me like I owed them that kind of therapy, you were the only one that made me feel like a fucking whore.
but i want to go back to there, to then, to that time. not now. not here. not this.
this is shit.
i am in read-only mode.
give me some hope for other people
i'll sleep when the room stops spinning, when the thoughts stop coming
got none left for me
i try to make as little noise as i can. in whatever i do.
i smile at little kids. they tend to smile back.
it's like infiltration, a pretty package, with a lot of bastards at the ready on the inside.
coax, lie, debilitate with kisses. be pliant when in first rhythms, then never change, then only ever force change
you lied first. you lied so many times, that there are whole periods that i can't reconcile
in my mind with reality. its all a bit incongruous.
then you, you say, stop dwelling on the pas
-or no-\maybe you regret things almost instantly afterward,-or no-8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
maybe even before
\maybe you want to be able to regret
because in the end you still did, and you still know
\maybe it's a yes.
nothing's real to me. things just are
i think i remember basic rules of how the world works
how things govern themselves in numbers
a set of ways to be
sometimes i forget
completely forget what is the norm
and i'm left completely in awe of myself
when i forget what it is i have to do, or say
when a phone is ringing.
two taughtYou were me in my dream. I watched you placate myself with nervous flickings of my fringe behind my ears. Smoke curled around my splutterings as you habitually inhaled, forgetting it wasnt your body; those werent your lungs.two taught9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I tried to warn you before you looked into my satchel; you made me take out a handful of balled up tissues, bunches of forgotten receipts and a half empty notepad, with some useless words scrawled joylessly across the half full. No pen.
Curses started to back flip continuously out of my mouth, words you had always said, and I had never wanted to. I tried to tell you that I didnt mean what I was sayingbut stopped shortrealising.
I wanted to know why you felt the need to. But I knew, because you were me, and I was you, so I had toright?
In my dream I was you. Your fingers, your hands; I traced your right forefinger around the loop on your left thumb. Followed the spindly branches of your life line, resting on your luck lines and sl
What is noi was looking for someone once,What is no9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it wasnt you,
but i found you instead.
i wasnt disappointed so much as surprised
but life takes different courses
as rivulets of tears and blood down my cheeks
you know. you do.
when realisation hits you like a knife in the guts
spewing forth your last meals,
and all the tubework you knew you had, but never have had the pleasure of viewing.
i remember the day i saw my first.
i remember the day i saw my first.
i remember the days of everythings
but i like to shut it out
i like to remember sunshine
even if the warmth i feel on my face in closed eyes
is the heat of anger
the rain i feel,
of points to shoot off from
sentinels bolting down,
canoeing across lands expanses.
to battlegrounds of fingermarks.
i could tell you all a story
whilst telling myself, for the first
i could say to her what i lied about
but it wouldnt make it better
and phone calls from nowhere are so lovely frightening
i hang up after the first hello
Give up on that emptyIt is with your visible formsGive up on that empty9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and deep laments; carrying you
across tempests of metaphor.
A million ways to say
the same heart ache made
But we are left with our
alones, our darkened skies
of misplaced whys. Fists
beating upon a simile
drenched with synonyms
for heart hurt.
Are we here to commiserate?
To begin again a dance
whose music stopped
before the curtsy thanks.
And even if this waltz is
burdened by cliche
shared by many with only
differentials; variables of
the same theme and same
outcome: I again will
pretend that no one has
ever kissed like this.
the circle, the squarei tried this morning i did. i tried very hard, and it started but it never reached a crescendo, it sort of fizzled out like a not held on to the bottom of balloon.the circle, the square9 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
it started. but there was no follow through. i think i've run dry. it scares me, scares me so much, because it's lurking somewhere dark and mysterious, maybe somewhere locked behind my ribs, somewhere in between all my pulsing soft textured organs in my abdomen. with bright ugly eyes and waiting.
maybe it was a conscious unconscious subconscious thing. where my mind in all it's forms wouldn't won't doesn't let me at all. if ever, anymore, again.
just left with red slight swells and a head ache. i think i stopped it, stopped the attack before it broke.
consciously unconsciously subconsciously stopped the anxiety attack just before it floored me,
nice time too, in the shower, could have slipped and fell like so many other times.
the water washes it away.
the water washes nothing away.
i dont believe her when she said that hot
youmesmeriseme[youmesmeriseme8 years ago in Typographical More Like This
you mesmerise me
you rise me; me's me
me me me, rises you
mire see you, me e
see you-me, sire
is you (me-you)
you see me
i see you
is your me
you see me is i
one of those thingsi write when my head is about to crush into a black holeone of those things8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i write when my heart is breaking into a million fuck yous
i write when i'm alone, in amongst strangers i feel more connected to than my own mother
i write when i'm confused about how i'm breathing, about how sometimes i don't want to be
i write when i'm in love with photographs, representations, copy-cats, plaster, sticky-tape, temporary fix-its
i write when i'm in desperate need for a vice
i write when i cannot fathom the way every little fibre i do not understand works, when i turn on a light
i write when i scald and scold myself with dirty hot words to try to make myself better
i write when i can, because i am not allowed to
i write messily with my fingers all small and bunched up on the pen so no one can read it
i write in circles and in vague shrouds so maybe some people won't find out what i really mean
i write when i'm inconsoleable
i write when i'm ecstatic from too much sun and cloud and rain and moon and little smiling
The priceWould you be angry if I stopped right here. Got off and let you down.The price9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Got up and left you there. Stopped myself up and said no, no more.
I think I would be angry. I think I would not want you to dance upon those streets alone, frisking to the fro. And gruyere dripped from lips I wouldn't be wiping, crumbs of boudin noir I wouldn't be laughingly picking out of your beard. You've got a little… here… no there…
I'm sure I would be angry, but I'm angry anyhow, and location displacement makes all the difference how?
I wouldn't be the one idly picking flowers, hummingly, sweetly when I know I shouldn't be, you reclining on elbows, watching me as if I were your muse again. And modern symphonies and growls and shriekings (I'm not using you for your lyrics you know) I know. I know.
When I come to place booted feet onto grounds he hasn't walked upon since he was eighteen. You won't be there.
When and if I brave the tips of icebergs in countries I shouldn't be travelling, you won't be there (let's
DeliveranceI see the end, and it doesn't come with an all encompassing light.Deliverance9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It is me hidden in your arms, eyes covered in your chest and crying. I can't see why. But I know it is the end, I see the cue, like the loud music playing for the credits at the end of a movie. Im hearing nothing but struggling breathing, it is your heart, giving up on its useless function, your lungs collapsing under the weight of my heavy head.
I see this same sequence play out, every time it happens. I cant tell you when it happens, just that it does. Your face is hidden under your hair and you are leaning towards me, as if your body was curling into itself, into a foetal position, youre trying to go back into your shell, attempting to drag me along with you.
You cant stop me from crying, and you dont let me see that you are. There is no consolation, for either party. We are together, but so inextricably alone. A moment, a sudden paired deflation, and we both go limp in each others arms.
fragmentary assassinsa moment strangulates itselffragmentary assassins8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
on a whim i let fall daisies
out of my mouth
chaining to become the crowns
of every I O U
the wall is the floor
my head is an ocean is a
lens cap is a migratory
formation i am jugular
i am heavy lidded i
am two minutes away from
this is a becoming this
is an undoing this is an
and you are every last piece
of the puzzle found
swollen with rain so it never
golden cageThis day: today. Is any other day, all days.golden cage9 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Tomorrow, yesterday. Everything in one, nothing in it all.
You take a bit of black, and with every brushstroke you shade hurt
and pain and suffering; all the cliches that only we, us, you, me, ever feel
for the first time, every time. Exactly how each generation creates sex.
No one wants to believe in ultimate nothingness, not even the depressed little ones with their drunken fist shaking at night skys.
Even when convincing yourself to believe that there is only void, null, empty black holes and vacuums full of minus; some stagnance remains - human hope.
Which is just another term for human frailty. A Christian is just the same as any other believer, non-believer. Hopeful. That's what it is, right? Hope for things to change, to 'get better', renewal, rejuvenation, a little present for a performing monkey.
It's only us that feels this love, that love, when he have it, had it, when we remember. It's only us; which is true enough, everything is
never whenIt's in the way the afternoons play catch and kiss with your toesnever when9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
burying themselves in your back pocket with train tickets
and things to make your breath taste like mint
a tradition of recall
and replay and remember
There weren't any birds, that I recall, the day I loved you.
And to replay the eradication of a breath within a breath I suppose I forget
willingly, just to remember
Of course the chatter of the crowds diminish when fine-tuned focus is called upon
straining skin in anticipation of connecting warmths.
Luminosity kept; shining stars between our fingers when you held my hand
ends with one. And IIts November again and I feel as if the bracken on the trees has changed so much. And yet, I would not knowI am so far away from that placein not only years.ends with one. And I8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I believe you look the same. Of course I cant be sure, but real-time details dont change my mental image of you. So I say it. So I believe it. You would rather me believe youve changed for the better, but I know better could only be the same as you were.
But I have changed, of course. And of course it is only ever one-sided this we would agree on. You try to tickle out the nuances you remember that I do not, but I didnt tell you I learnt to suppress the urge to laugh.
But Ill laugh, dont worry.
What I remember most are your eyes. Because they are everything I knew I wanted to exist. No, I couldnt tell you what colour they are, in certainty, but I know them more than I know my own.
Although, I must learn to remember that all we're doing is finding a very similar kin
you moved softlyYou moved softly, like end of summer leaves falling into autumn, turning the pages of the air with your fingers, as a silent maestro begging the orchestra to play. I never met so many instruments willing, waiting, dying to be resonant.you moved softly8 years ago in General More Like This
Stepping into the street, watching you, sounds lose meaning they dont disappear but they elongate into the stretching moment and Figaro in and out of my ears as a rushing hissing straining noise. Like whistling kettles I havent heard, in real-time, for years.
Silk rippling slowly through the air from you; your arms are fluid and wistful. You seem so sad as you run your fingerprints across your skull, parting the trees of your scalp and shaking your hair forest into earthquakes as you landslide your eyebrows into an upheaval of tectonic plates.
I never knew a frown could be so beautiful. And I never knew that painted pain could swallow my breath like lights blinking out in the night. I lie, I have always known, but you brin
in secondswe move in yearsin seconds8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
ajarthere's something about the voiceajar7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how it trickles
like warm honey
soft and sticky
sweetness fading as memory
the way a word is said
and then unsaid
eaten up again
like cold toast
of another drone's
by the action ofi opened my mouth into a yawnby the action of8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
to swallow your teeth, and your indecision
your fancy shoes, they get stuck
in my throat, at the back
they scratch the letters of you
impure, they catch up on the liquid of
you: impure. my growl deepens into
and calm, it is indistinct between
the day, the night you felt warm enough to stop
i close my breath deep, around each moment
every thread inside each eye lid, pressed against the
it hears a threat in the heartbeat, tastes a threat in the tongue
a threat in the
the truth as otheri get the best thoughts in your boarded up toiletthe truth as other8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
shutting the door tight and hiding where you won't find me.
it hasn't been used for years. the window beams
orange light at me through the cardboard.
it's warm in here, it's filled with spider breath, and i could pretend
i was an earl, with web-hair clumped as curls.
the air is dust and mould and 1980-something -
i can't quite pick the vintage.
i let it settle on my tongue and try my best to keep quiet
you'll hear me and if you do...
i tend to find perfect presents for people i used to know
ten, five, two years too late.
sometimes i buy these things just because of the feelings they evince, they procure. i leave them in places their younger selves might wander through.
do you like it?
and i don't do so well with thank yous as i'd like
no i don't do so well with you at all
i think it's kind of crazy to rely on one thought, one goal, one ability, one truth
and i find it kind of ridiculous that i tend to never follow my own
dust dancesThey say it is a fire in the belly, but I start to think it is lights. Perching high along the ceiling, viewing all the stages of decay as the peacock feather green peek-a-boo peels itself off and dust dances spores into this waste we call oxygen. We breathe.dust dances9 years ago in General More Like This
I would grow watermelons for you in my stomach fields if you would like the time to feel the seeds beating. But I dont remember if I ever asked you. Little watermelons of light; pink lights growing red. Dont swallow.
He asked me for a day, he said, we could pretend we were explosive happy, and smile so much our cheeks sting like apples, and laugh until we wheeze like horses. But how do you pretend youre pretending, he never told me. I think I seem to miss the point sometimes.
I cannot recall the name of the streets we lived in, on that day. But I remember the clouds and their foray with the birds, and the sun swords chivalrous and terrible across the zephyr pull, and push of yo
They've got my soul.I wonder how many photographs I'm in, how many I never allowed; how many photo albums in however many countries where my back made an appearance as urban landscape. My face twisted in discontent forever immortalised on a shelf in Beijing. Belonging to people I've never known. And will never.They've got my soul.9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
What is your name, smiling child in nineteen ninety-three? Playing beside me, smiling at your... mother? What's her name, where do you live, what did you have for dinner that night?
I won't know, can't know, like the ways of the universe; never.
Why are these simplicities so out of reach?
I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I could have hurt you, sorry that I could have bulldozed through your chest and picked your heart crops right out of you. I didn't plant them, they were never mine to steal. I'm sorry for all the words I could have said to hurt you, and all the words I could have never said which would have hurt more.
You know? Do you know me? Know me more in this never than any one could ever in a real-t