Monday, 8 October 2012

"Things are simple."

"Things were simple."
"They are as simple as you want them to be."

"If they're that simple, you're choosing to be blind."

They lay on the grass, side by side, counting stars in opposite directions. They played with each other's hair, traced each other's pulses, and tangled with each other's veins.

"We are vessels of transformation. History will forever bear the scars we leave."
"History is constantly shedding skin. We remain for a while, and then we are lost to casual musings and happenstance. We're all products of happenstance as is. We are in a constant state of flux, but we're spokes in a wheel, spinning around, going nowhere."
"Would you not even try going against its currents?"
"I never learnt how to swim."
"It doesn't matter. We are intertwined. The waters shall not separate us."


Years passed, and they crossed paths entirely, as it were, by happenstance. Introduced by a friend of a friend, she smiled into his eyes. "Yes, we've met before.", she said to their bemused acquaintance, and  waited for him to respond.

"This is a pleasant surprise."
"I would've thought you'd consider it fate."
"I thought we were passed that."
"So did I. Care for a swim?"


Sunday, 23 September 2012


I know I'm clumsy
and careless with my words
watching you
break them
is a much more
kind of pain.

Thursday, 20 September 2012

You said something stupid 
About love and loneliness 
But it doesn't matter anymore. 
Happy Birthday. 
May you never have reason 
to ever cry again.

Saturday, 25 August 2012

The Right Kind of Words

Someday, when sunrise dares to compare itself to you,
You in all your morning radiance,
You, searing white light in all your awe,
I will toil endlessly
To find just the right kind of words
To tell you, if I get the chance,
Just how much I lost
When I thought I could lose you
And live to tell the tale.

Every time I think of you,
I die a thousand deaths,
My own hands leading me to hell,
Notes scribbled on my palms,
"you reap what you sow".

This harvest has been the death of me,
And I keep on dying still,
But with every ebb of life,
I will still struggle against hope,
To find you just the right kind of words.

Perhaps then,
I'll die one last time,
and never again.

Monday, 20 August 2012


"Haha, sorry. I can be really anti-social when I want to."
"And when do you want to?"
"I'm not quite sure."
"How about we figure out when and why - not socially, of course - whenever you have the time?"
"That sounds like something I could do. You pick a time, and I'll pick a spot on the beach."
"I hope we won't be drawing lines in the sand."


No, we won't; just lines under questions long overdue for answers.

Wednesday, 1 August 2012


I bear true and an existing witness
to this barrel of monkeys.
A self proclaimed immoral success,
perfected by each whereof
individually deadly and equally so
and spread about the surrendered troops,
for even thousands of miles will not
tear apart their communication, or the lack thereof.
Vultures, liars, thieves, each proclaim their innocence
In no suggestion or rhyme, your weapon is contained in
the wrecking of the keeping the desired effect.
The breaking of the spirit thwarts the whole being.
Your weapon is guilt, your weapon is guilt, your weapon is guilt.


Tuesday, 31 July 2012

What Brought You Back To This Place?

That glow in your eyes
and the lilt in your voice.
The current calls me away,
But I stay in my place.
Your pride is the only thing
Keeping me anchored.

Sunday, 29 July 2012

Between Ti and Do

Someday, I will sit at the yoke, 
clear the skies of my mind, 
and fly over frozen mountains, 
with music floating all around me, 
and your words 
sitting in my belly, 
your hand 
in mine.

Till that day, 
I'll be 
making movies 
in my head.

Sunday, 24 June 2012


I count the times you said your words.
Once. Twice. Thrice. Again.
Your words, they flowed
Like rivers of milk and wine
When you spoke of them.
I heard every word you said,
Every single breath you tasted
As sounds escaped from your mouth
Through throat, over tongue, past teeth,
You said what I heard, and
I heard what you said.
Every. Single. Word. 
You always kept quiet, 
With so much to say. 
Except when your eyes poured out, 
And your words drifted along. 
I listened, and I hoped, and I wondered; 
When might you finally have 
Some words for me?

Sunday, 3 June 2012


Sowing seeds of disdain
I'm turning a lively green
It's a small price to pay
For us to never be seen

Monday, 28 May 2012

Daytime Television

Such are the days in the sun.
Don't come without sacrifices.

Tuesday, 22 May 2012

Sunday, 20 May 2012


I let you read my pages
But you spoke a different tongue.
That must be why
you never understood me.
I guess I should thank you
For selling your vanity
In exchange for my ego.
Remember, lest you change your mind;
All transactions are final.

Thursday, 17 May 2012


I will never rid myself
Of the station where I wait
As your sliding eyes smear me
With the warmth of disdain
And your tears curve upwards
Where the corners of your mouth

Still, my skin flakes
Tracing the shape
Of your steps
So recklessly delicate
In the Summer Snow.
Winter burned with envy
As I burned my clothes
For warmth.

Tuesday, 15 May 2012


It will be a sad day
When I forget
Your name,
But I hope
The realization
Doesn't hit me
Until long after I do,
And you are gone,
And us too.

Saturday, 12 May 2012


I want you
to come back
and give me
what you stole

I want you
to replace
the gaps you left
and make me whole.

Tuesday, 8 May 2012


I was told I knew you. That struck me as a surprise; I was normally very good with names, and if I'd known it once, I would've known it again.

But it was true; I knew you. I used to know you. I knew you no longer. I would never know you again.

I walked in silence, under streetlights and through smoke rings. Your footsteps faded with the earliest rays of dawn, and I would have to search again.

Friday, 4 May 2012

Who You Are

I will meet you
at the intersection
 of cynicism,
and realism.

Or, at least, 
I will try to, 
if it is practicable, 
if such a place 
even exists 
in the first place.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012


Someone needs to climb this spiral
And drag me out of the depths
While I kick and scream and bite
At the hands that fed me all my life.

Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Monday, 9 April 2012

Another World

The air shook, and
he swayed through
the emptiness he left
where they had once
stood close together.

The air hummed, and
his heart rang out to
the same frequencies
that took their shapes
on wearied stations.

The air howled, and
he stayed at arm's length,
Kissing shadows in
the louder silences
dancing in the dark.

The air wept, and
he turned one last time,
And said "darling,
Don't cry. This isn't
meant to be
our last goodbye."

Sunday, 25 March 2012

Aidan Moffat's Car Song

I thought I could forever be your passenger,
as we gently raced beneath
the trees of B roads and C roads,
watching for fauna and singing along
to that Classic Love CD we found in the hired car.
A weekend away from pills
and paranoia was the plan,
so we headed for familiar territory
in the comforts of memory.

I'm happy when we move.
I'm happiest in here,
where nothing's left to prove,
and nothing's left to fear.

i used to swim over there,
but that pub's gone downhill.
I made my very first and very last attempt at smoking
on that swing bridge with Gillian Smith.
We all loved Gillian.
Expelled from school,
we crashed the graduates' ball
in the function room of that hotel,
and I came second-last
in the treasure hunt.

I'm happy when we move.
I'm happiest in here.
where nothing's left to prove,
and nothing's left to fear.

So let's do it.
Let's sell our home and all our things,
and buy a camper van,
and live on service station junk food
and roadside pub lunches.
We can burn our smartphones,
and donate the computer
to the school down the road,
leave binbags full of clothes
we never wear outside the charity shop,
and just go.

We walk to the shore,
and I think I could keep going,
till someone deep inside you quietly screams,
"it's time to stand still",
and he's right. So let's go home.

And while we can't build in bricks,
I can build in my heart.
where we know heretics,
and we know where to start,
if the foundations rot,
should the wrecking ball swing,
if I misplace my plot,
and so lose everything
just remember us here,
hand in hand by the shore
and forget each dried tear,
and the burdens we bore.

Sunday, 18 March 2012


At times, the only urge I feel
is to roll over to face
the other side of the beds we shared
and ask you, "are you okay?"
as I kiss you on the forehead.

Saturday, 17 March 2012


We give strange names
to the daggers we
drive into our lives
hoping someone else
will come by
and know how
to pull them out.
All we want is to
be grateful. Lost in
the warmth of
To feel as if we
can carry each other
and, in the darker
corners of our
hopes and fears
cling to someone
who will save us.

Tuesday, 13 March 2012


The air is razor wire
My skin shreds when
I try to make bridges
out of our forearms

The sun takes a piss
on a cool spring breeze
And the smoke snakes
through our hair as we kiss.

I move to find I am turgid
still a part of the ground
And I let go of loftier ideals
like self-expression and will

The fruit I bear weighs me down
And with mirth, you pick
at the life on my bending boughs
And leave what is left at my feet.

With somber eyes, I think
it's time to admit
what we felt all along.

Monday, 12 March 2012


My toe is always drawn to
the most treacherous of waters
Why can we not just sit
on your porch with our wine
and talk of something banal
like petrol prices, or the weather?

Every breath stops me from dying
And there you sit, splendorous
As I wonder what God is
and (whatever it may be)
Why I always find myself
neck-deep in deuterium
when I don't know how to swim.

Don't throw me a rope.
Let me thrash this out.
Let me see if I can
lose you in the waves.
Let me see if the mirrors we carry
can show me what we look like.
Let me see if we were
at all, meant to be.

Monday, 5 March 2012

Nicholas and Plato

You may claim
that we'll just be friends
And that is how
it was meant to be.

Ten years from now,
I will still want
The taste of my tobacco lips
to swill in your whiskey
while your anxious tongue
flicks your Monroe.

I will bend the crease
in the fiercest of your coattails
and stupidly wonder why
I burrow into green waters
at once shimmering and empty
To allow myself to see
my rough hands
grabbing you by the collar
And pulling you closer
To keep you away. Forever.

Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

How Not To Fall In Love

It was an empty embrace, meant more to comfort than to love. You saw what you wanted, and I saw what I wanted, but we couldn't see what it wasn't or was.

It wasn't lust that held you against me.
It was desire that made you her.

Your kisses froze on my cheek like tears on rough winter mornings. I dared not cry, silently sinking lower into the depths of my shame. I have no place to hide.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Apply Your Heart

You will forego devotion.
All you have to do is
step onto
the path
of love.

Thursday, 16 February 2012


"what do you know of home
when you find yourself
in a new place
every morning?
I shall relinquish
the warmth of
your memories
erased in my mind.
This is what
I've become.
Crying 'help'
in the recesses
of my heart."

Wednesday, 15 February 2012

In One Night

"Quiet" says the voice
"quiet, and listen.
Hear the beating of his heart.
Can you tell apart the ache from the desire?
Or are you just keeping time
to the rhythm of his pulse?"

Monday, 13 February 2012

Fathers and Widows

Like a father to impress
Like a Mother's mourning dress
If we ever make a mess
I'll do anything for you.


I did everything for you. Everything. For You.

Saturday, 28 January 2012


Your words are
the crunch of
your steps on
the shards that
I once called
my heart.

Tuesday, 17 January 2012


What made it a sad affair
was that I wanted to be there
for the children we thought
would be ours
but we parted ways,
your stripes had changed,
and it was your children
I loved more than us.

Wednesday, 11 January 2012


we've thrown away love
for the sake of keeping face,
but the sadness sticks
like a bad taste
in the back of your throat.

I listen with my heart,
and kick angrily
at the currents
dragging me down
into thoughts of you.

Sunday, 8 January 2012


He asked me for his red rose. I did not have it, but he refused to believe me.

I gave him my gloves instead. We considered it a fair trade.