Thursday 26 April 2012


The voice

I paint my nails
And I dye my hair,
Colour my skin and darken my lashes.

Now I paint my skin
And I mark my body,
Colour my life with today's anguish.

Acetone tries but can not win,
Erase these moments; Silence this voice



One am....... 1:00

It's five to one 
On our way in tomorrow
Every mirror reflects a different grief
Each thought projects, just nothing.

Empty melodies sing cliches that placate
- Placate but never heal.
Skin gives off too much heat
An unnatural exothermic outburst
Uncontrolled, and unnamed. 

It's still five to one.
No change, nothing new.
I knew once what I wanted
Now wishing seems so far away.

Every day becomes a never day
Never becomes too long for art
It's still five to one
The hands won't move, the world will not change.
Time refuses to pass in in-action and in void. 

Saturday 21 April 2012


Word Association

Attraction.
A moment: a moment never felt like this before.
Never again.
Unique to now, unique to me and us.
You.
Excitement. Anticipation.
Self doubt kicks in, self worth assessed.
Quick glances confirm mutual attraction. Mutual excitement, mutual interest.
Awkwardness prevails - how to start? Where to begin?
Speak something clever, speak something funny, speak anything, just speak.
Wet dry lips and straighten clothes. Nerves flow like electricity.
Excited for tomorrow - excuse myself for seeing you again.  
An extra spritz of perfume because I know you’ll be there.
Knowing smiles and cheeky grins.
Excitement laced with danger.
A flutter not just of lashes but the true gamble of the next few steps.

Happy lies, expected untruths.
Acceptance is endless and patience embodied.
Rainbows and butterflies.
Ecstasy overwhelming.
Impatience for excess.
Breath-takingly happy.
Holidays and heart to hearts. Complete and content.  
Warmth wherever you are. Lust and laughter wherever you go.
The world softens and I am less afraid.
The purest blue and the brightest yellow.
The calmest green and the loudest red.
Singing in the street and lying on the floor.
The perfect fit, the perfect look, simply perfectly simple.
Looks that connect, never empty or unnoticed.
The rhythmic beating of footsteps walking in the same direction,
For the same reason - even when we don’t agree.

A crack.

Only small.

Glossed over.
Filled in and covered up.
A moment of doubt, and selfishness and fear.
But I’m not afraid of the dark, it can’t hurt me, can’t change the way I feel.
Forget it and move on.
Never go to bed on an argument.
Excitement in between conflict.
Highs so high only because of the “no’s”.
Unhappy lies and truth telling that doesn’t work.
Earthquakes and nail biting.
Unsure or uncertain.
Certain of nothing: surely normal, surely fine.
More exciting this way: never a dull moment.
Never a moment of confidence. Self doubt, self worth assessed.
This moment never felt like this before.

Burning flesh inside my mind.
-          No ones looking, no one knows.
The world has ended in a flood and a drought and in fire and in ice.
Pain beyond my being.
Impossible to deal with, improbable from the start?  
Emptiness surrounding me, no air, no space just nothing.
No you.
No us.
Me.
Alone.
Over again. 
I cant ask why, don’t want to know.
If I do I’ll give up. Never trust, try, or talk again.  
Speak something inspiring; speak of fish and the future.
Just speak.






Half left

There's nothing sadder than half a pie: dessert meant for four.
The encore to a family meal too long ago enjoyed.

Emotions rollercoaster as its absence is noticed -
It was there this morning, wondering when it would be cut.
Was it taken on invitation? Empty handed ne'er shall we be.

Perhaps a lady cooked him dinner, engaged him in converse.
Reminded him of the companionship life stole from his hand.

But there it is: half a pie in the microwave.
Evidence of nothing - a quiet night and no more.  
An extra helping with custard as well as ice cream.
Did it appease the grief? Did it comfort his loneliness?
Did it remind him of his mother’s pastry, that my mother coveted so?

There's nothing sadder than half a pie
Half of the whole, half of what once was there.