let's

Squint against the cold
And feel your eyes smart,
Wet with brushing wind, weather tears fall.

Needle fingertips hold the rail
As a rush of smoke to the head makes you dizzy.

Getting up in the morning doesn't always go as planned
Sometimes I don't want to get up.
It's not even that I want to stay in the warm.
Sometimes I don't want either.

And as the cold of the rail pushes against the skin warm pads
palms lose grip and maybe I'll fall.

Pretend the tears are real and fake the catharsis.
Cry for the feelings left in sleep, unreachable now woken.
Now in the morning fuzzy thoughts and freezing hands.

Let's not.

elementary

seriously addicted to sherlock holmes on tha radio. so lovely, perfect amount of creepy crime in a bright box of daytime. 

before i shut the door

Waiting
For the icon to appear
The spaces around me take on air,
expanding their bellies
Leave me less than is here

I flip. fucking everything can move, there must be more room, more air here amongst these things, this stuff, this place is full, I'm drowning.

Before the path is found, the undergrowth grows over.
Nothing fits

But if I sit and slowly wait somewhere I have not sat before
My limbs merge in, heavy leaden to the floor

What is it in this space i cant control?
To find out finally I let it fall
And I move it with my mind
Nothing is empty, nothing is kind

Break down those sinews and rebuild them here
Whilst waiting slowly for the icon to appear.

solar flare

you were born in a solar flare
quiet and soft, no one knew you were there.
our sun threw down light
warm slices through hair,
we left our seats and held tight
to the edge of the air.

you sat very still
and we stood up there high
the wind held its breath
as the sun heaved a sigh

all distracted with protons
we came down from the rooftop
the shafts from the window shone
heavy with dust mots;

the tunnels of sun beam caught the disturbed air
that spun when we spoke or thought we could hold it there.

you kept to the corners.
knowing that it meant more
if we discovered you
but we did not discover you.
no, we did not discover you.

oh Love,
and we sat talking and
playing with sunbeams and
I left with protons and
neutrons and
heavy ions and


now shadows of sun fall on the end of my bed,
I realise I saw you in the hall before I left

the mist sank in

i absorbed the mist last night.
it lay on my face

and i felt it sink in.

books

With blue Quink fingers, my mind is fading grey.
Lost with other people's book dreams
dry hands rub the binding's fray.
Finger tips touch, make the corners inky blue,
numbed by the turning of the page

the second hand flashes silver bright,
and I'm back to avoiding my own dreams.

sad and lost and far from home.

so where do i live then?
this isn't my home. i feel like i'm part of a childrens' picture book.

'where does ruth the rhino live?' 'not here'

doesn't help that i'm listening to bon iver. not really helping the lost, sad feeling.
and 20. 20. 2o. no thank you.

gotta keep growing and moving and changing. and staying right here, with nothing around me the same, and nothing so different that it matters.

luckily it's all bollocks anyway and i can go home soon.
but it's a new home, away from my best friend.
and it's a town i've made home, it isn't really.
but i fit better there, with five counties at least between me and 'home' than in the county less than half an hour from where i was born.

there are so many layers, so many reasons for each person to do different things.
i've been told my music was frantic, too much energy, too busy.
i don't wonder why i don't listen to sad music.

everything i feel is right there for everyone to see and it takes all my energy everyday to put things down and get on with something real. you can't just go about telling people things.

my head hurts, my thoughts glow
and if i shaved my head, smooth as a stone,
you would see. it would show.

Rain

ive had the first line floating
in my head, for days.
i keep thinking of things to say and out comes that line, not out of my mouth, but out of somewhere, the place that i keep it. unintentionally keep it. there should be other things there, but there's not.

two drops.
two fat drops of rain
and a rumble-crunch like a
gravel driveway
two fat drops hit the pane,
squashed between air and glass.
and say it's raining.

talktome

Font mimics writing, mimics the
printed type of a keyboard key,
mimics the signs left on a
page by a pen by a hand,
mimics speech.
mimics speech.
mimics speech.

mimics thought. mimics thought.
don't leave your font lying around for me to read.
Talk to me.

don't leave me lying here.
i will get read and read and read in the face
it doesn't matter who reads me
it just doesn't matter who reads me.

leave me here to be found by the tide
waves of understanding.
on the same wave length
sitting on sand, letters supported by serifs.