What Mortality

Forever, Lovers and thinkers love equally in their own season
Powerful yet gentle, each hand directing the way
Each word coming out reminiscent of a steam train piping up
Just like me, they feel the coldness

Friends of Science and Religion
Seek the solitude of shadows
Watching their own funeral processions
Which may serve to incline their pride

Dreaming of nothing in particular
We take on certain gestures with remorseless guilt
Great plains stretched out like depths of emptiness
Seeming to nod off

To a dream that never ends
A life of magic sparks
Creep up on us like our mortality
The realisation in our mystic pupils

A Promise

I sat immersed in thought, eyes fixated on the ground not saying a word.
The ache of my smothered tears wept from all my walls.
Heavy sorrow draped all over my shoulders
A burden unsurpassed

Everything seemed strange
Unrecognisable
My blinds were down all the way

I wanted to run to the coat
Embrace it
A sleeve hung from the shoulder
Full and round,
The end of the sleeve was empty but I swear I can still see her in it

The circles around my eyes
Hung there like ripples in a pond
and the weeping intensified

I wanted more than anything to look into your blue eyes
Just one more time
To see the identical shadow between your lower lip and chin

But the melancholy lingered in the room
as though the pains were here to stay for eternity

I promise, I'll wait for you.

If only I could tell you

Time tells us one thing
What we should have done
What we should have said
If only I could tell you

If only I could tell you
All the words I couldn’t say
Oh, the graffiti
Of all the words I should have said

There is nothing but this
And time laughs at us
Saying – I told you so
But I love you more than I can say

The rain must come from somewhere
Days must have reason
If I could tell you
I would let you know

Perhaps the trees don’t really want to grow
Maybe I do really want to go
It was a kind of loving
Of this, I’m sure

All the books we used to read
Oh, you poor cow
I loved you
Oh, you poor cow

Time keeps repeating the same rhetoric
Over and over
Whispers through the wind
Of ‘I told you so’

Blue

Blue is the colour of her eyes
Blue is the mood I'm in

Blue used to be the colour of her well worn jeans
Blue is the mood I'm in

Blue is the feeling encompassing me
The state I'm in

Blue is the languid sea
Blue is now the colour of me

I Don't Feel Well

I’m being sick. Everything comes out in violent, convulsive spurts. It’s all coming out and splattering onto the grey gravel of the roadside. I can feel the burning peer pressure digging away at the back of my skull with drunk sunken eyes on me with comments like ‘you’ll be ok now mate’. I don’t think I will somehow but I soldier on. They all pass my hunched form. I’m back on it, this stage show, this performance of me trying to be a man by guzzling down whatever is available. Some of the calls were right. I did feel much better after losing half my body weight spluttered all over the wall and my trouser leg. I had a sense of relief somehow and now I was able to continue.

Now I’m trying to convince myself that it was just water coming out and not this virus, this torrent of substance abuse or alcohol poisoning my entire soul. It was just meant to be. I tried to shrug the feeling off but my stomach was the dictator orchestrating this sickly performance. If I concentrate solely on the road I’ll be ok I thought. However, I couldn’t ignore the flashing lights and dancing numbers all around me enticing me and raising my senses to cinders with all their merry shapes and flashes. I can see white lines in the corner of my eyes that seem to be in me and inescapable like a dog chasing its own tail. But the moment my eyes flick to something else, my whole body sags, the strong winds easily knock me off balance spinning into parked cars and limp over the bonnet of a Mercedes. I dread entirely what may happen next.

Finally it came into view, I wondered if it ever would seen as though my progress is slow. My stomach is cramping and the prangs will not give up despite my best efforts to coax it into accepting anything less than 45% volume. I make a turn with a wide arc not wanting to subject it to any more torment. The wind is becoming more obvious and sapping. I must endure but I know this is going to hurt.

More sick, water and bile is all I have left but it’s all coming out now. Now there really is nothing left of me. Behind me a St John’s ambulance pulls up just as I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my already damp cardigan. A nice looking blonde lady marches around the ambulance and comes bounding towards me with each step more purposeful than the one preceding it. Her face is one of pity and sadness. ‘Why don’t you come and sit in the ambulance?’. We then have a argument with me professing to feel better and that I want to join my friends wherever they might be by this time. She insists it will only take five minutes and I stubbornly agree. Eventually, after a matter of seconds her expression changes to worry and very real concern.

I take a sip of water from a kind looking gentleman with greying features who looks like he belongs in a suit and not here with me at 5am on a Tuesday night. After lying on the bed and professing how amazing I feel I’m subjected to a barrage of questions. They take my pulse, blood pressure and continue to ask me ‘what have I taken?’, ‘how much did I drink?’. Bloody hell, leave me alone, I don’t know I’m fine, in my mind I fly through space in-between tiny spacecrafts as though locked in some animated game. I got mad and wanted to escape this cage of a vehicle. ‘I’m going now’, I demanded. The man asked if I was ok to continue my journey into the morning to which I replied ‘continue? I still want to win, I want to be remembered for this night’. If you ever plead and it gets you nowhere always try sarcasm, it invariably works a treat.

Ticking Time

A man with a square jaw and small glasses
On his slim line face
It weaves an orchestral pattern
line by line, revealing his life
Ticking time
In a waiting lounge of heaven
The land
Sprawled out like me in my dressing gown
Tended to Minute by Minute

Like a woven pattern
Weaved by the woman
With cropped hair
And 'lesbian' sprawled on her forehead
Somewhat arranged
Like a piece of classical music,
Meter by meter
All notes arranged

All the rhyming is done
A harmonious production
This vast land
The lakes, the car parks
The takeaways,
A small puppy
Playing in the sunlight

They say it's God's gift
Preserved like a
Piece of ribbon
Stranded in the night sky

The Room of Lucidity

The room is locked,
I enter willingly
Fully aware of the slumber

DREAM
Derisive, Retention, Endless, Automatic, Mangled

The mind’s eye
Glares all around
So many things are contemplated in 7 hours

DREAM
Dangerous, Real, Enigmatic, Associative, Machiavellian

Food for thought,
Nightmares of Lynchian magnitudes
Hell is right before me

I sleep, I dream

Wondering about random things..

Daring
Rapid
Empty
Akin to nothing
Morbid

Roll A Dice

I roll a dice
I want a five
But I only get two

I want to try
I want to smile
I want to be you

I roll a dice
I want a three
But I only get two

I want to live
I want to breath
I'll do anything with you

I roll a dice
I want a two
Typically, I get one

I want to give
I want to help
But I don't want you

I throw away the dice
I've lost my smile
I'll resign myself to fate

I don't want to live
I don't want to love
Please leave me alone