Bag of bones

What is left to discover, underneath of another?
Slipping their hand inside your dreams.
Blink and they’ll hover, laying oily fingers upon you.
Dripping into your world.
Turn you over like heroin.
Underneath those clothes that hang like a skin.
They’ll slip within, and caress your soul.
At least that’s what you believe.
That’s what you’ve been told.
A smiling, nodding bag of bones.

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Seen on television

What position did you wear, glaring out with weekend eyes?
A real woman. Wearing a smile and turpentine.
They cannot buy the things you have, make an offer.
Sipping souls with a slice of lime.
Slip your tongue into another lie.
A strange life where the fake are sanctified.
He’s a real man, he’s the real thing.
He’ll do anything.
Holding out for all but a mother.
Splinter eyes and matchbook teeth.
Both now adrift on that world stage of comedy.
Tracing figure eights and commodity.
She’s a real woman. Saying a prayer into small boxes.
A real man. Attuned to product placement.
Grease those wheels in the mind.
Spin into a Monday morning, hung like a broken jukebox.
Looking now for new interruptions.
Chasing new enemies.

World is spinning (旋转失控)

Electric vertebrae, tasting the wavelengths.
Calling out on the ocean of time.
Feel it pulse, shimmer and shake in my bones.
I Saw it in the I, Ching.
Consult, consult, confer.
Disturbed state of mind.
Eating black ice cubes on a whitewashed day.
Soaked in the rain of the juniper tears.
Slipping into each pore, devouring me once more.
Oh that little friend of mine.
Dropping plastic swords and fighting to stay alive.
Now in a trance, and feeling it once more in my heartbeats.
The kick drum of immortality.
Dip this moment in bronze, and tie me to a plinth.
Whispers, all around like welcomed sound.
Dripping once more into cosmic dreams.

Who let the rain in?

Underneath that crystal water, of crushed stars and dreams.
Dwelling like a memory that won’t die.
Lies a soul.
Frayed and tattered.
Filled with thoughts of eucalyptus leaves and saffron.
Tide up in heartstrings and self-made knots.
Tackling the torrents soundlessly.
To drown silently in a rising tide.
Was their gift to you.
Keeping the truth and the pain out of your eyes.
Packing soot and coal into the sockets.
Trembling inside and still, like a sewn up teddy bear.
All glass eyed reflective and placid.
Who let that rain in, to wash the hope away?
Deluged in dopamine and on the brink of decay.
Each drop inched closer, under the door and down their spine.
Exploding the sky with a grey that blocked out heaven.
God made the rain, the floods the tide.
To wash away the sinners, the soulless and already sunken.
Yet she was always destined to float.
Catching stars in pockets and wiping the salvation across your mouth.
But the rain came in.
Straw ladened and camel shaking. Soaked in misery and shame.
And now she is lost under the surface. Ripped away in the undertow.
Growing gills and thicker skin.
Crashing on someone else’s shore.

Home of the naïve

Disentangled child, cut from the spangled banner.
Speckled in manna, and the god they trust.
As unique as a snowflake.
Beyond the dawn break, of a new and troubled ice age.
Call me on your cell phone.
Buzzing in neon, and a blood point too high to tally.
Covert the freedom.
Sensibilities you need them, as the world cracks and crumbles below.
Oh say can you see?
Beyond all the misery.
There is a land open and free, still waiting for you.
Topple the gods.
In a system at odds, which crackles with such hellish flame.
Pledge allegiance to the drag of a drug in your veins.
Which splits the world and mottles your brain.
Until you die and are reborn again.
So proudly you exhale, a revolution of love.
And a change that cannot fail.
Splattered in white, red and blue.
Be strong. Be courageous. Be you.

Gold in the blood

Red rain, falling like sulphur.
Staining the world and the paper people.
Fold, recycle, cut and paste.
A papercut on this heart, opening for the light.
Blow your love into my brain.
Mist my eyes and let me slip into a miasmic dream.
Heady and concentrated.
Addiction is my latest mission.
Feeling you pin prick my fingertips.
You rock, paper, scissor me out.
Winning through with luck and bad taste.
Sending stinging sensations through my blood.
Singing me to sleep with a silent orchestra.
You banish the ghosts from these cobwebbed chasms.
Empty of love and anything bright.
No we dance in the sun, shining like silver and precious stones.
You weigh me down with this gold you shoot into my veins.
Holding me secure, better than gravity, for fear I would float away.

Pepper and papaverine

Keep my image in your head.
As your bruises turn to yellow.
As the pain subsides and the chaos falls down.
Your post-blue tiptoe through the poppies.
Licking the petals as they brown in the sun.
The cold light of morning blankets us both.
Glittering off broken promises and the whisper of regret.
We turn our world for another rotation around the central star.
Angels waiting to tear inside you.
Reparative cells bonding with my inclination.
To heal you and us, in a milky star shaped pool.
Pick the debris out of your mind and take my hand.
These explosions you are seeing, they are only clouds of uncertainty.
A falling disease, defeated by love and the heart that we call our home.
Hang you head to the side and listen.
These sweet words of supple saltitude, savouring the sublime.
Triggering happy thoughts and novocaine in our minds.
Wash it down. Sweat it out.

There’s nothing wrong here

I wore the role you wanted.
Dressed in those emotions.
Let it drip like turpentine.
You showed me your Jesus scar.
As I cut through the confusion.
You leave me buzzing like a motel sign.
Only you could scratch me that deep.
Rush through me like amphetamines.
What did they say when you returned?
Did you make it feel so numb?
Feasting on cartilage and present tense.
Yet the dark offered such shelter and shadows.
To call you back to another brilliant night.
Where you looked ahead, seeing us there.
Stepping over the bodies of others.
Look me in the eye, celebrate me deep.
They all wanted to be wrong.
Singing their symphony of sorrow for a loss that had not yet begun.
Bone and cheek.
Questioning our mortality as you trim the fat.
All conquering weirdos.
Destroying the things they never understood.

Fly me to the moon

Into the shuttle, with a clink and clank.
Climbed old Richard, the adventurous Yank.
He counted down, from ten to zero.
Puffed out his chest, as America’s new hero.
And he soared into the sky, with his hands in his pockets.
As he shot to the moon on the back of a rocket.
And the earth dripped away under the clouds and his feet.
He smiled at his fortune that was ever so sweet.
Yet alone on this flight, bound for the lunar oasis.
As his body hung on earth in a medical stasis.
In the nursing home called Cherry palm, Richard resided.
At 92, was the best place his children decided;
For him to live out his days in comfort and care.
Little knowing each day was full of lonely despair.
And that is why, though medicated it’s noted.
He navigated the world, and now space where he floated.
And he went where he wanted, on his own in his head.
He had travelled to the moon without leaving his bed.

Lightning in a bottle

And the voices they whisper.
The dominant ones scream.
Climbing the walls of my skull. That grand display.
A sea awash with chemical dependence.
Slipping into the sublime. Causing me to stutter.
Push you a little further they chime.
Pull back another step into the nothingness they call.
These voices whisper in my head, licking me with novocaine.
Their mouths a slather for the honey I swallow.
Hard jagged pills, set to simmer in the stomach of my soul.
Too many channels, trying to trip my station.
This lighting in my head, it’s like bottled bolts.
Smashing again and again against the glass in my mind.
A perfect storm of self suspicion.
And who here is paranoid? Who would ever admit?
For to raise your hand, well that makes them come after you.
And though I would slip once again into that nightmare of reality.
A smile would slip out, knowing I was right all along.

Praesidium (me)

Here comes that prayer again, that plea into the heavens.
All because of that fall from grace.
The fall making me blind, forcing me to breathe underwater.
Ridden of all pathetic pleading.
Gone to tear this world down (though the best have tried).
These lungs fill with desperate needing.
As I drag behind you, watching you shake your head.
With a trigger happy mouth, ready to shoot me down.
Oh shoot me down in the sweet sublime.
Into the funk of another fall.
Breaking beds of pussy willows and clinging to another trick.
One to turn your head, or make you paralysed.
Your love, hidden by disguise as you pull the lever.
And swallow.

Enabled sleep

Lay me down with the tinkling of glass.
Those little fellows with their chalky mouths.
Grinning at an untold joke.
Keeping their euphoria to themselves.
The night suffocates, yet refuses to devour me.
Leaving me bitter and longing for sleep.
The jealously of the slumbered ripples across my skin like the cold.
It happened today, wearing my tiredness on my sleeve.
Welcoming rest and dreams within dreams.
Yet it won’ come.
Like an un-landed flight, I circle the skies in my lumbering state.
Creaking the fuselage with my tectonic groans.
Swaying in the night sky full of stars.
I manufacture a restful condition, listening to the world settle.
The universe put to bed and still.
They return, mother’s little helpers with their permanent smiles.
Swallowed down. I’ve been so high.
Aloft yet well-travelled.
There is nothing wrong now, I just needed to believe.
Dive into that waiting white surface so cool and clean.
Landed. 5am.
Grounded.

Optimistic voices

Take this minds eye and see what I see.
Holding back a dam. Holding your hand.
A kick start heart blazing across the sky.
Watching them all drown on display.
Ideas of failure and dreams collapsing.
Breathe me in.
Sweat me out.
These optimistic voices explode like stars.
Rain them down and inhaled like candy.
This revolution of love is about to begin.
Front lined and armed with tolerant heroin.
Lick an idea that was not born inside you.
Apple cored and ruby red. Easy to digest.
Sending the sadness to a deep white slumber.
Then storm the castle. Kiss my like thunder.

Stanley

Stanley wanted nothing more.
Then a pair of new trainers, like the boy next door.
So he went to the shops and emptied his pockets.
But some coins, a tissue and small toy rocket.
Could not amount to the high priced brand.
And he was asked to leave by the security man.
So Stanley went away for a while.
But then came back, with a cheeky smile.
And he stole those shoes, from right under their nose.
And wore them home, in such comfortable toes.
But alas, this was not the end for Stanley.
Who began to steal more things, which made him feel manly.
He moved on to televisions and peddling dope.
At only 15, he was beyond all hope.
Of ever being on the straight and narrow.
Hitting the underworld, fast like an arrow.
So don’t surprised if you come across Stan.
Shoplifting in Tesco or hot wiring a van.
For if you try to talk him, set out a plan.
He’ll flip you the finger, and steal your gran.
(Crime doesn’t pay…always)

Wash over me

The thread from my bones was caught and tugged.
Stuck on that rootless tree.
That dying ember.
Give me a place where it’s quiet in my head.
To rest and melt away.
This lake-shore I wander upon, littered with Prozac pebbles.
Stubs my heart and calls me to the water’s edge.
Reflected in the glassy eye of tomorrow.
Is nothing of what I cherish today.
As birds fly above, they swoop in and steal my thoughts.
There is no protector of my mind.
Leaving me numb and silent.
Dancing once more in the darkness.
To a rhythm only I can hear.

Beauty trapped

Bind my heart, break my bones.
Sneak in when the lights are off.
When my guard is down.
Snap my soul and slip inside.
Overwhelm and consume me like heroin.
The addict in me pulls you near.
Breathe me in, suck me out.
Spun up in your mind like a crystal chandelier.
Precarious precious beauty.
Your hands on my innocence.
Pulling me down, and knocking me over.
Teaching me how to fly.

Crash

Rain on the highway. The black sea smeared ahead of us.
Running on empty and water in the fuel.
You push me, then shiver over my spirit.
Taking me higher, sweet ecstatic clouds of chaos.
Pulling me under, pushing me forward.
Pushing.
Your hand gripping the bed as I shudder into our future.
Raining out our destiny.
Plotting our destination.
Getting lost and hopeful. Wondering and wandering in euphoric bursts.
You call me down, and buckle me in.
Pulling tight enough to know I’m safe, yet free to leave.
And then we kiss, and all fades to red. The back lights in my head.
Petrol fumes and heroin in my heart.
Pedal to the metal, shortcut to my soul.
I close my eyes and grip for your hand. Finding nothing but air and a gaping car door.
The mouth to misery and my own destruction.
As I headlong into my crash and burn.

Hold on to me

You’re the one who comes between us.
Coughing out your IQ, slipping your hand behind the couch of the night.
Leaving me always chocking on your haemoglobin.
Shooting to the sky, and yet careful not to fall.
My eyes are wide, yet they scarcely see you.
The black of loneliness that you leave me with. Weightless and bare.
In the dark, it all looks the same; until you set me on fire.
Warming your hands until I burn to a spark.
Killing me before I get too old.
These words from you are too vulgar, yet I say thank you.
Breathing them in and setting up homes for them inside of me.
Precious fragile fragments of attention.
Your racing heart surprises me, and brings me back; brings me down.
Simmering into something else.
I come back to you in pieces.
Littering your soul.
I know you want to stop.

Odyssey

Waking up and following the star, the one that dazzles and tempts.
Wondrous offerings of stardust and heroin.
Death is not the enemy.
The flat line, the one foot in the soil.
Hospital beds and pharmacies.
It’s all a commercial for heaven.
My journey that started with such abandon, where has it led me?
After all, I’m not where I want to be.
If I’m honest, I’m ashamed. Stuck in mortality, delicious sweet vitality.
My tank is far from empty, yet there’s water in the fuel.
What is now ahead, what is the remedy?
Will God take her time?
Tick tock clocks and crocodile teeth. Shaking in the can of life.
All it takes is one decision.
Concentrate.

04:45 Tomorrow

Though the dawn sings out a new chorus, I cling to the night.
It is in the dark we dwell now, secure in our insecurities.
A post-blue anesthesia.
Slipping down from the dopamine shell.
The tiniest crack, the smallest splinter.
Down to the floor where we freeze like winter.
The swan song of our lifetime, yet only 26.
Clickety click.
I dug my own grave with you last night. You did the same, yet watched me do the heavy lifting.
The look away and the tiniest frown, makes me feel incapacitated.
Resting on a gravestone, stroking a soul.
Licking words that you toss my way, crunching on the crumble of forgiveness.
We build the tomb, and plant the seed.
Blacked eyed beans and coffee kernels, salty tears that stain.
Who is she anyway to you?
I go home as the night slips into dawn, erasing the loneliness and feelings of terror.
Come seek me where I dwell, scrap off the shells and dying roots.
Tell me you love me, and mean it. Please believe it.
Sinking into tomorrow, today.