reds she said ( Read more... )

this playground isnt alway sunny.
the rips and slides sear and graze
scar and shredding
marking her knees and her face.

this kid inside
will never grow old.
she is paved with gold
and stinks like green.

the angle which we rise
had steepened and
and now slides

hot exhale.
beating
can't yo hear it?
speaking in
to the mircophone
will not
cause cancer.

crap holy crap.
underwear, 9:30 beers.
haircuts, libraries too.
those call numbers are
dysliexic nemisis.
it's italiano,
it's fantastico.
it's a little black dress.
that this heart is
wrapped up in.

i will get down on my knees ( Read more... )

i'll get on my knees,
but you know i'm not praying.

man i'm tired. and not got much to say.

we sat snacking
on dark chocolate
melting,
like me

i want to have felt you,

splayed across that arm chair,
it’s not fair,
they were not my arms.

i was on my own,
across the gulf of carpet,
and coffee table
defences were readying

to bruise these shins.

working on not thinking
about those bullet coloured eyes.
they could shoot me dead,
and i'd not see it coming.
how i hope
you pull the trigger.

blurry pictures now ( Read more... )