|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
I am the seaInside I am blue and violent,
Just like your eyes, which saved me
From drowning - I was calm yet crashing,
Waves of apologies and sad smiles.
You hooked me through the heart,
You and your crystal clear blue
Keep me floundering, not sinking
To the quiet places in the deep.
The dark ocean of empty gestures
And bad decisions drags and pulls,
But I fight to the uncertain surface
For one breath, to call your name.
PorcelainLike porcelain, your skin was
Pure white and flawless.
You were perfection, and
I was mesmerised
As Glosoli sang
And I cupped your face
Into my imperfect hands.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
And your collarbones,
And the ambient lighting
That highlights you with shadows.
My hands flit across your chest,
Down to your hips,
Smooth and porcelain.
But hard too,
An unyielding shell under your skin,
Stopping anyone getting in.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I run my fingers through your fingers
And your smile stays cold,
Porcelain and far away.
Ambient lighting highlights the shadows,
Under your eyes but it hides
That blotchy after-crying skin.
Mesmerised I want to reach out
But I see the cracks around your smile,
So I don't.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
QuakeThey call it heartbreak,
But really it was more of a quake.
Cracks spread out from the epicenter,
to my neck and to my thighs,
And widened until
As little flakes I fell away.
A damaged ornament, slowly
I collapse in on myself, and
In vain I try to hold the shards.
And after the aftershocks
There are too many pieces.
I feel myself fall from my hands
Jagged onto the cold floor,
And as you walk towards me
You cut your feet.
OpenIn the night I still hear the sound of her voice,
Gentle, like the quiet rainfall.
My eyes threaten to join in.
I remember your face and your hidden hands,
And every beat of my heart
Smashing my chest like it was trying to get out.
My ribs still echo with it,
Like my chest is cracking open.
Three years and still my chest is cracking open.
The dawn is darker than when I played Apple.
Outside it sounds just the same,
I can taste the tears still.
Three years old, when I screamed out in the kitchen,
While you made another kind of scream,
That I could not hear but I feel it now.
I feel the echoes swirling around,
Like my head is breaking open.
Three years and still my head is breaking open.
Petrichor and PeaceI find comfort in the quiet after rain.
Drops on the tarmac, chaos
And then silence.
The absence of sound is a sound
And the smell is new beginnings.
Petrichor and peace.
In fall after the leaves drop,
Crispy, ochre noises, til
Rainpour makes a mess of them.
No noise now, their colours blend
Into the ground and they regrow,
In the petrichor and peace
I find comfort that after our storm,
of industrial debris and man-made leaves
Fall rain will hammer down until
We are only echoes, and then
Silence and fresh grass,
Petrichor, and peace.
CountdownOn these long nights I am scared of death.
The changed moon reminds me that I am closer
To the time when my love gets grey hairs,
To the widow one of my parents will become,
To the empty rooms of children gone.
I fear the slip and fall,
And the look on your face on January 14th.
Both the inevitable, slow decline
And the unexpected screech
Of metal hitting metal.
To stand once more in a resting place,
Life once loved, now lost, and knowing
There are more lines on your face this year,
More things that you have forgotten,
And more cells awaiting rebellion.
Spring blossoms are a countdown
To a time without your eyes,
And more black suits and wilting flowers.
On these long nights I am scared
That I will be the last one left.
Do You Know What It Is Like To Be Unmade?It is that four o'clock curse,
Hypa Professional Stainless Steel,
Years past and bathroom floors,
"Now to know it in my memory".
Forgotten comforts and a lullaby,
Now your careless utterance.
Three years empty,
"Burnt Away" romance and consequences.
Scratch the night quiet.
"Jagged vacance thick with ice."
The skin will sing and sting,
Hypochondriac burns, twice.
And every drop of soul,
Poured out with the maelstrom,
Of cigarette stale lungs
And Holocene erases memory,
Internal parades eternally.
No mind enough to fill this mould,
"Someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me"
That kind of loveI want a storybook kind of love,
Witches curses and poisoned apples,
Something to struggle for,
Against the odds,
Saved just in the nick of time.
I want a fable to envelop me,
And your eyes deep blue as the sea.
I sink down into their abyss,
And then your kiss,
A true kind of love on my lips.
I want a forbidden secret.
Insecurity and unsurity,
A crescendo kind of love.
As we are in the moonlight.
I want a snowstorm kind of love.
A blizzard to end all things,
Hurricane winds ripping apart,
Like tape and glue.
I want a nuclear reaction.
Irradiate my heart and soul.
A sickness kind of love,
With skin and pain and screams,
And aloe vera you.
I want a wartime kind of love.
Worries and kisses and tears.
Romeo and Juliet,
On no mans land,
We will embrace and die in love.
I want a fairytale.
Doomed and meant to be,
Unlike these faces I see,
The endlesss searching,
Trying to find some kind of love.
Next to BestLike the window pane race.
As mercury in the chill,
Lower the racers fall,
Victory puddles on the sil.
And the frozen teardrops,
Still and second best,
They are not winners, yet
They shine just the same.
Let's glow as next to best,
Not too special, but
A shining medals worth
Close to ideal.
Crossing in our time,
Not gaudy guilded gold.
Pretty good is second best,
I should know.
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
iHer eyes clouded by
nightmares of the past
Angst controls her life
as shadows chase her
each and every day
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
MarksIt was the marks that reminded me,
Making it only six days
Til you had to be put back.
On the edge of my bed,
In your shirt and someone else's socks,
And cold hands.
There were too many hours,
And too many marks,
Like the marks on my skin.
No clean getaway, just
Dirty failed distance, marked
By blood and salt and six years.
Six years of blue tack,
Five pence per photograph deals,
Nights like this on the edge of my bed,
When you would hold my hand.
Keep in Touch!