Stagnation [POEM]

I will breathe it in.
Tar like lifeblood.
Clawing into nothing
Until it hits bone.
Bitter and putrid
Is my mouth.
Drool tumbles into
Webs for spiders,
Cradling into my
Lifeless body.
Stagnation is too light
A word for me.
Self loathing too
Gentle a sensation.
Inevitable desctruction
Looms above me
As my ever
Consistent sky.

A crappily structured love poem – Happy Anniversary my love [POEM]

My mind only sees your colours.
Only your smells passing through
The echoing corridors until
They merge together into your touch,
Your sounds, your taste.

Muted purples and browns swirl
Like cinnamon and sandalwood
Smoke, while stars blink out
In a crystal, iced blue that seems
Far too warm to be mortal.

Rich coffee laced with thick
Chocolate, canvas to be painted
On, raw silk and comfort.
You are my room of safety and
Joy, of silent happiness.

Everything I could need, in the
Richest fabrics. You are not
A flash, you are not gold, but
You do not need to be. You are
Pure quality, not shine.

You are my fireplace on cold,
Rainy days, in a messy room full
Of cushions and memories.
I will live in you forever. I was
Yours since I fell into your eyes.


Sickness seems to be curling into me these days.
It’s smoke in my lungs, tears blurring my eyes
And choked hiccups in my chest.
It throttles my brain and stops my words, my pen,
My lips. It stops my everything.
But still I get high in the hopes to feel something
More than mundane daily struggle. I can’t create
My own high, so I find the easy way out.
Artificial lust.
Vacant eyes.
Where do I go from here?

It falls like Dawn I [POEM]

It hit again. Like a rock tumbling to me from a cliff edge.
Not so far away to be invisible to me, but far enough that
I felt its presence coming, strong and fast.
I lay there waiting for its weight to crush me, and found
Myself a willing cushion for its heavy blow.

What is the trick to living, with this constant wedge
Held against the door of my mind. Here I am, sat
Upon my own misery, a throne of sorrow.
I watched all of this coming, from the dusted ground,
But I was unprepared, or complacent to stop it.



[POEM] Loneliness

Silent drives with you under dark silk skies
Mean more to me than all of their lies.
Peace might not shine as hard as love after
Quarrel, but I melt into joy at your laughter.
I wouldn’t trade our silent moments together
For the loud loneliness of past lived forever.
For the taste of bitter excitement and longing
Instead of the soft buttery warmth thronging
In my heart for you. For always. For better, and always best.

[POEM] Itching gears

I’m a wind up toy that doesn’t understand the difference
Between excitement and fear. Between loathe and love.
Mechanical gears itch forward without any deference
To the true meaning , but if the hand fits the glove…

A thrill tickles against my rib-cage, with high notes,
Paving the way for a panic of horror, despite my smile.
Humdrum chaos surrounds me while I focus on dust motes
Praying those bashful grey things distract me for a while.

If my heart beats strong, it will eventually beat in fear.
If my breathing quickens, slowly it embraces mania.
I become faint, from fervent wishing that I not be here.
But here I am, indeed, succumbed to my brains’ megalomania.

[POEM] Cross yourself

Cross yourself with due diligence,
Marking off each of your sins
One by one until they ring in your
Head, drowning out every sound.

What, then, do you hear?

Flimsy plastic sword of intelligence
Battles the stifling outs and ins
Of your demons, bitter and sour,
Stuck firm and tightly wound.

Who, then, is near?

Broken ribs creak inwards to
Crush the fluttering heart
That dies to break free so very
Desperately. Pain. Just pain.

Alone, even darkness shuns you
And leaves you far apart
From the world of mortals, nary
A breath or soul looks in vain.

Let me pass.

[POEM] I fall apart

I fall apart. Away from myself.
With each spoken word I get
Closer to the lie I hide on the shelf
Behind my bed, hidden by sleep.
I can trace each truth on written
Method, with my finger, my eyes,
My imagination. I’m just smitten
With literate indulgence.

Listen not to my mouth, but watch
How I write. My pulse sits deep in
My wrist, but far from the latch
About my unhinged jaw.

[POEM] Contemporary memory

There’s a sharp pain in memories
That linger, poisonous.
They beg revisit, growing colonies
Of pain with each
Trespassing step taken in a picture
That was once real.

Letting the past seep into thought
And logic is like
Trying to fit words into rhyme.
Impossible when
The feelings are too strong. Too hard.

I lose my thread going over inept pains and ridiculous wanderings of my mind.

I don’t recognize that girl, and neither should you.