Glass

I buried your words in a glass in the garden.
Trapped them like fireflies in the twilight of this trying.
This break, splinter, shatter.
Tucked them all in, away in the dirt.
You look up when you’re not sorry.
Telling me lies long into the night.
Shattering my glass heart and steeping on the pieces.
Complaining of the sound it makes.
Never once indestructible.
The thunder came, the rains fells.
The lightning struck as the storm of you raged on.
Turning my glass heart back to into sand.
Reduced to grains of love.
Leaving it in this new lonely desert.

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Way to your heart

What keeps us warm when the rain covers all?
What brought us here, what was our fall?
Who keeps you safe when the fires smoulder on?
Who is your light, keeping you strong?
Which god do you turn to when pain wastes your heart?
Who leads you back, right to the start?
I fired a shot out into the nothingness.
Into the void, that cold strange abyss.
I cried for you when the pain drew near.
Yet you keep me away in sad lonely fear.
Where do you go when world leaves you cold?
What do you do when your dream isn’t sold?
Who dries your eyes when tears corrode the gold?
When you realises, it’s all as you have been told?
I’ll make a bed for you inside me.
I’ll keep you safe, contented and free.
I’ll breathe the trust in where it belongs.
And I will love you just like I have all along.

Prey you are watching

A different kind of beauty flutters in my veins.
The transformative forest fire that rages.
Splinter the bark as I howl at the moon.
Life shifts and shakes too soon.
Wet your lips in my misery.
A whirl once more in the serenade of solitude.
With fresh pine air I rejoice.
Capturing wandering stars and night owls.
Keeping them safe and hidden under my cloak.
For the winter will come early.
And these dreams will not last.
Pull the bones from my nightmares.
Drink the wine of my fantasy.
Rub me all over your teeth like cocaine.
And call my name.
The shooting star caught in the halo around the moon.
Learning your lycanthropy

Late night tale

What will be your legacy?

The earth will continue to turn over as the day melts into the misty night of the lonely. The seasons, with all their trappings will parade through time like compartments on a train; heading for an unknown destination but one that feels familiar.

What will you leave behind Jack, to a world already brimming with forgotten stories? Of people who have already done things that you crave to accomplish. Your life sits in the valley of the forever reaching, watching the clouds pass that offer hope and rain.
He held the phone to his ear, the ringing echoing in his skull like a voice in a seashell. He drew a pattern on his shorts as he awaited the click, the delayed static before they spoke. Looking outside his window he could see the half-moon poking its jagged edge above the trees. The clouds fluttered over it, shielding its full brilliance and illumination. Holding back the hope, and the light that didn’t even belong to it. The moon was a thief after all, growing infamous off the sun’s illumination.

“Hello?” the voice answered, the tinge of annoyance already present.
“Hi, how are you?” Jack said, clicking his fingers. He was nervous and angry; which had always been a dangerous mix.
“Fine….” they replied before following with “…you?” God forbid they be rude to the others listening. God watches all after all.

Even the devil? Jack wondered in that moment, as the moon ascended the top of the trees now and glared fully for the first time.

“I’m okay thanks. I was wondering if you wanted to talk?” He asked, trying his best to sound inviting, make his voice something that would open up the soul that had shut him out for nearly a week now. He knew it was a stretch, his feigned reassurance always came across as hostile for some reason, like razorblades in candy bars badly hidden.

“Not really.” They replied. He could hear music down the line, cutting the awkward silence that would be building now like a monstrous hill.
“That’s a shame. I thought by now you would have had time to think, and perhaps something to say to me. You know, you’re not being very fair.” Jack said, his voice stayed level. He was annoyed, it had been going on too long now. The uncertainty was eating away at his impatience, combusting his state of mind.

“Well, I’ve kinda said it all already. What else is there to say?” No remorse, no softly spoken words to reassure. Just the cutting knife of the reality that he had feared all along. Did they know how many nights that week he had cried into the pillow that their head used to sink into?  The smell of their hair long since gone. It had been ages since they had stayed over. A month and a war in the space of their relationship which was now halting, wheezing and ready to collapse into the river of time that pulled all things away.

He wanted to shake their head and heart, unhook the kindness that seemed to have been placed behind iron walls and stony facades. He knew these words betrayed their real feelings. How many times had they said they loved him, how many times? Less than he had ever uttered a nasty voice spat inside his own head. His mind had been a petri dish of all ill thoughts and worse case scenarios this past week. Suspicion breeding like virus as self-doubt was on the rise.

“I want you to say, you’re sorry I guess.” He blurted out suddenly, regretting it instantly but proud somewhat he had said it at all.

“Sorry?! Me?” the voice replayed, taken aback by such an innocent requests which echoed unwelcomingly in their own private world of self-preservation and denial.

“Yes, you’ve not been kind to me. You know how I feel, and you know what buttons to push.” He said.

There was a long silence, the music in the background having been turned off momentarily before. The break hung like Christmas decorations in March, out of place and conjuring conflicting memories.

“I’m…I’m sorry Jack.”

He was surprised, then overcome with panic. It was the goodbye he feared. The closure they needed and the thing he had orbited around. He had given them the ticket to depart and leave him forever. A clear conscience can flee with ease, and freedom only helps you say goodbye.

How long he had stayed on the phone, he didn’t remember. They must have clicked off a while ago as the moon now indicated to him the night had come. The darkness was here, nothing more now, and the nights were to be cold and desolate.

YOUR EYES WILL BE OPENED

It wasn’t so much that the dark frightened him, the shadows suited him well; casting a cloak for his deeds in the middle of the night. It was just that, the darkness heightened what he already felt inside, desertion and loneliness.

The small town nestled at the bottom of the valley, cupped neatly in the hand of the dark hills that surrounded the collection of houses and farmsteads. The hills were high and the weather was dreary, casting a perpetual gloom over the small town. The lights burned away from inside the cottages, flickering eyes in the darkened face of a place mostly ignored from the rest of the world. The occasional dog would be heard barking out into the night, disturbed by the nocturnal animals which snuffled around the market place looking for vegetables and food cast aside from the day.

Andrew usually waited until around ten o’clock to leave his house. The locals were mostly tucked up inside their own homes by then, and he found he could prowl the streets with ease. Tonight, he hadn’t heard any dogs barking. Not a leaf rustled or car rolled past. Even the full moon, which burned brightly above him, could stir up the restless of the townsfolk or awaken the crazies. All aside Andrew, a fact that was lost on him as he unlatched the gate of Yew tree cottage and slithered up the path, keeping in the shadows.

He’d been here before of course, he’d been to nearly most of the houses in the village after dark. But he liked Yew tree, he was always guaranteed what he wanted when he came. He felt tonight would be no different. His stomach fluttered thinking about it as his found his way around the side of the house where the rubbish bins were kept. He hoisted himself up onto one of them, the one marked specifically for garden waste, a few stray twigs reaching out of the lid like fingers. His trainers squeaked slightly as the slipped on the plastic and he held his breathe in an effort to quieten himself.

They were both there when he looked up. He didn’t have to crane his neck at all, his raised view let him gaze easily into the top window of the small cottage which seemed to lean over to one side. They were usually in bed, Mr and Mrs Sampson. The elderly pair would usually turn in around nine o’clock, sat up reading books as the night-time swirled outside their single glazed window. Andrew couldn’t make out the title that Mr Sampson was reading, he sat further away and the words were too small, but he could see Mrs Sampson was enjoying ‘The Pale Horse’ by Agatha Christie.

The room looked cosy, the lights on the night stands they each had cast a comforting glow around them which seemed to hug their old bodies. Andrew watched as Mrs Sampson nestled closer to her husband, riding down a bit lower in the bed. Turning the page of her novel.

Usually Andrew would watch a bit longer, observe them closely as they hung in his eye line like creatures in a zoo. But tonight something within him stirred strong and he was eager to start. He pulled across the bag he’d been carrying, and pushed aside the hair which had fallen over his eyes as he turned. His keys inside jostled noisily, and he silenced them quickly, reaching in to retrieve the smaller clear bags. Two tonight. It was always two at Yew Tree.

Inside each bag was a small baby white rabbit, each beginning to stir now as the effects of the ketamine were wearing off. The bags had holes in them, allowing the small creatures to breathe but as he handled them carefully out of the bags, they felt limp and lifeless in his hands like small softs bags of bones. He stroked one of the small rabbits with his chin, lifting the tiny creature up to his face. He could smell the warm musky smell of the hutch he had his garden. He closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the other bunnies, nested under their mother. Warm, safe and content.  The one in his other hand jerked suddenly and Andrew nearly let go of it. The muscles beginning to spasm back to life.
He must be quick.

He placed his phone carefully down by his feet as he crouched now on the bin, the two rabbits in each hand. He had their number of course, it wasn’t his first time. He hit the button of his phone which glared alarming out in the inky dullness of the night. The line connected. He heard the ring through his phone, and then moments later her head the returning sound coming from the Sampson’s house. He watched Mrs. Sampson look across alarmed to the phone. Her old fashioned sensibility on edge as she knew no good news came at such hours.

Andrew watched her reach across and lift the receiver, the copy of the Pale horse nestled now on the bedsheet between her and her husband who craned over to hear who the caller might be. This is when he had to be quick, this is when Andrew had to be focused. He held the two bunnies in his hand and waited, waited for the sound through the line in his phone and echoing above him through the window disappearing off into the night.

“Hello…’’ came the timid voice of Mrs Sampson, and that is when he began to squeeze. The more lively rabbit jerked frantically, but Andrew drew his thumb up into its neck and pressed harder. He could hear the old woman now, repeating her answer and he watched as her husband leaned over to listen down the line as if expecting his involvement could produce a response. Andrew stayed silent, slowly squeezing the life out of the animals he held in his grip like hands on a railing. His body shivered, a sense of connection travelling up and down his muscles as they tingled with every feeling of disappearance he craved.

And then suddenly, it was all over. He watched as Mr Sampson reached over and hang up the phone. Speaking hurriedly to his wife who seemed alarmed and confused by the intrusion to their evening. Andrew came back to where he was, the tunnel disappearing and the mist evaporating. He placed one of the creatures back into his bag, wrapped carefully in the small plastic baggy. He then hopped off of the dustbin and walked a few steps to the side door of the cottage. He lay the other dead animal on the mat by the door, it’s head flopping first to the floor as it’s small eyes gleamed up like a dolls. It had been the more restless of the two and Andrew stepped back and admired it there on the mat, forging it in his mind for the moment just as it started to rain. He then turned and left quickly, but just as silently as arriving, getting back at his house in less than ten minutes. He hurried quickly to bed, not changing out of his clothes, brushing his teeth or washing his hands; anxious to get to sleep. He did have school in the morning after all.

YOUR EYES WILL BE BURNED

Outshine them all

An absent minded pioneer.
Forgetting the parts of me we have discovered.
Paid blue. Flashing to neon red.
Fusing the split and feigning licks.
Time. Tongue. Hung.
All under control.
Lost, spat out at into the night.
Caught in the taming lion love that roars like a first.
Caught in the jaws of a beast that slips the ropes.
Still remembering and engineering the future.
Cupped into your hand with the voice you captured.
What is right, what is right for us?
A prayer in the dark as the kisses cover you.
Whispers of the voice now broken free.
Dancing on your cheek with the grace of the devil.
That gapping void yawning out ‘Disappear here’.
Going.
Goi.
G….
Gone.

Luminous lament

She knew, she hoped, she begged it true.
But despite her efforts, away they flew.
She always thought they’d come to save her.
To take the dark and be her saviour.
A light would flicker inside her heart.
A smile would spread, then tear apart.
She never found love that ever endured.
Or took her sickness and made her cured.
From a loneliness that ate away.
A sadness that had come to stay.
Until she read deep in a book.
That she could change her fate, and all it took.
Was to love herself and believe deep down.
She was a spark from god, with her own crown.
A little flame, could burn up bright.
If she believed, she could banish the night.
And though it may seem trite and sappy.
She could not rely on others to make her happy.
And by doing this and loving her heart.
She found her soul mate, her other part.
The light now shone for all to see.
A neon blur of serenity.

Dusk of the innocent

They didn’t see it coming.
Always bouncing on to something else.
Ignoring the ghosts in their eyes, or the oncoming headlights.
Those April days of innocence.
Flying over schools and mountain tops.
Elasticated minds skimming the Tokyo suburbs.
Never finding time to hear what love sounded like.
Letting it all fall away like a crumbling cliff, on the sea of something.
Were you ever sure what you fought for?
Always in the eye of the storm of your halcyon hurricane.
When April faded to December, what do you cling to now?
Freeze dried promises that never seem to thaw.
Mislabelled and mumbling that nothing seems clear.
Only the icy ground beneath, forcing you in that straight line.
Towards you losing yourself.
And lowering into soil.
Could you ever tell who liked you? Did you ever really care?
Needling the hay to make way for a forgotten tomorrow.
Singing into the dusk of the innocents.

Amazing shadows

Blink the dark and silence the nightingale.
Two turns on that apology.
Cut the veins of the ghosts and watch them bleed.
Where did you go?
What is that running down your face?
Claustrophobic thoughts of freedom.
Suffocate lungs all drenched in oil.
Such luminous reflections tiptoe across your eyes.
We measure the umbrage that dapples our fears.
From the tree we wish to burn.
Amazing shadows, holding hands into tomorrow.
Making us strangers again.

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.

Dance into decay

You cut my breath.
Bottled it and threw me to the ground.
Smashed my words to the ceiling.
Watching them collide and rain down like sulphur.
Lost dreams in the broken night’s sky.
Collapsing my lungs and setting fire to this correlation,
of these hearts that were once intertwined.
You place bruises on my eyelids, reminding me of your passion.
Leave me bleeding on the ledge.
Beated the love right out me.
Doing harm, because you can.
Left me stuck inside this circumstance.
Asking for answers in a tongueless mouth.
You laugh at my allergic-ness to loneliness.
And thoughts of a distant future.
Which lesson in love do I learn from?
What thought do you vacate me with?
Leaving a halo around my eye.
Which struck me right in the heart.
A slow dance in decay.

Contract & construct

That reason we all had for being there.
Through shared DNA and the tears of Jesus.
Waiting for the smoke to clear and the dust to settle.
Yet deep inside a fire burns.
Turning all to ashes and cleansing from within.
Who do you ask forgiveness off?
As you hand across a world that is riddled with pain.
What did you blame as you clung to indifference?
When the world darkened as black as the night.
But do not drown in this consequence.
Or be blown away in this havoc.
It maybe all borrowed time, but it’s ours to own.
And the rest is still unwritten.

Temporary shelter

We slipped again, into the night.
Out of view.
Known only that we were here by the stories they tell.
Fabrications and fables.
Drops of disillusionments that melt their trustful hearts.
We wander, as they wonder why.
All around us keeps on spinning.
Our own rotational axis that keeps on thinning.
Down into splitting heirs.
Putting matchsticks between your teeth.
Setting the enamelled house to fire.
Write these reasons on the back our hands.
Staple your own destiny to your eyelids.
Then once again play that mournful song of tomorrow.
And disappear into today’s setting sun.

Home

She sits alone as the twilight encases everything.
The end of a night that offered little in the way of change.
She carries a sadness with her, down the escalator and into the train.
An unpicked flower that danced at the wall.
Bating those eyes with all the world to devour.
Those lines on her tights that follow a path to another solitary bed.
Sheets that will smell only of her, and a mind left free from interference.
Where does she travel to on these tracks?
With those unkissed lips.
Those eyes that contain a secret reason for her circumstance.
I watch her go, out the doors and into the cold tunnel to the surface.
Stalking in death strides to a land I never wish to return.

Fluorescent future

4am as the world whispers me awake.
All is calm, and the night travels in my veins still.
I slept the day away.
Rubbing the tiredness and memories from my eyes.
Half a world away, yet right where I started.
Right where I belong.
The veil is yet to be lifted form my shaded stay.
Talking to me still from the past in a language I slightly recognise.
Talks of entangled vines and harkening songs.
The red land beneath my feet.
Sticking to me like sand on wet skin.
Rub away these English oaks. This chitter of festivity.
Don’t lead me blind with your patriotic stories.
Colour me sunlit gold and let me sleep.
Crying into the night.
Drifting away on the tide.

Ghosts behind your smile

The night is so quiet.
All the ghosts are saved. All souls redeemed.
I looked for you there, down by the river.
Washing away your sins.
Washing all over me.
Your eyes catch a glance, all fire and brimstone still.
Flickers of hope and entanglement.
Your reflection quivers, frightened in my tiny hand.
Vast in your stormy sky.
These angles cry for me to let you go.
They know you see. They know.
You are fooled by your own disguise.
(Something now I no longer recognise)
The tectonic shift of love and hate.
As you flee from me.
Escaping yourself and the things you’ve collapsed.
Stripped away and torn from your bones.
Even God wouldn’t even recognise you now.

Golden gravity’s pull

My blood made of neon and speckled in gold.
Caught you looking.
Peeking inside my soul.
Come lick the satin from my windowpane.
Come be the reason i’m born again.
Reach inside, run your knuckles up my spine.
Your fingers around my heart.
Tonguing tried history.
Tasting dinosaur blood and DNA.
See me blaze, and watch my rise.
Thread you fingers through the string and come away with me.
Star coated kites in the black velvet sky.

Colour my direction

Dreams, again complicating my life.
They swing their megaphone and make me no longer breathe.
Diving deep, fill my lungs in my chest as they weigh heavy.
Underwater, and the unsettling sound of silence.
Swimming in the dark, where no-one will see if I drown.
They force me to murmur out a sound. An action.
A sleep twitch.
Taking off with little beats. Like coloured balls escaping.
A Personal pilgrimage to land in your lap.
Hold me in your crossed arms, talk to me of the Passion.
Your passion.
Fade into my hue and join me. Linked in gravity.
Seeking rainbows, as I carry the weight of my world.
Imitating life. We have it all.

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.

Slipping on stars

Lost in words, sweet syllables and lullabies.
Knowing too well the winners write the rule books.
Always first in the end, then onto the beginning. Re-structuring my world away.
April night, waiting for the moon to sleep.
Had enough fights to make sure the bruises will never fade. Leaving it all behind.
Choking on solar flares, breathing in a new tomorrow.
The stakes never higher, you chased me from pole to pole, frozen in your righteousness.
Your need to be right and your tries that bind. Trying to be me, trying to be something different.
But I wipe this away and breathe in the galactic air.
Allowing cosmosis to take me deep within you, and all your little galaxies.
The Pisces in me is rising, questioning my reasons to stay; as always.
But the chrysalis of us has flared and I’m strolling now in your starry garden, letting us rest upon my shoulders.
Slipping on stars and sliding into deeper space.
Orbiting you, questioning Copernicus.
Blinded once more by your light.

Abstraction of forms

Suspended in the air, thoughts hang like Christmas decorations, all out of place in June.
Interchangeable. A word sticks out of the page and cuts my hand and my heart.
You saw it written across my face.
I cannot cry.
I deserve this, you deserve better. Remorse is a cheap substitute for something deeper.
Strip away my skin because I’m dying. Kiss me one last time and bury me deep in the ground.
Just don’t think it’s that easy.
I cannot lay there decomposing. A vampiric nature comes over me. I will rise up and seek out your love, pressing close to you to feel it beating within. Sensing it through every part of you.
Lost in regret.
If the stake in my heart needs to happen, let it be you. You fingers gripped to the hammer.
I’m trying to remember the feeling when the world stopped, and the night overcame me.
I will alter, I change. I will shift my very soul and re-arrange it all.
Seismic systems are swirling, about to reduce everything to rubble.
Do I renounce my love, can I give you up? I think not, so on goes the armour and out comes my heart.
Bones and dust may remain at the end but you, you’ll be high.
All out of reach. When things change, lights fade.