UNTITLED
see, here’s the thing you don’t understand,
that you just cannot comprehend;
we are THOSE kind of people.
the better kind, the brilliant kind,
the kind you wait your entire mundane existence
to meet. we’re the dreamers,
the visionaries; prophets, genius-
the straight-up
down-right
so-fucked-up-it’s-beautiful
honest-to gods
FREAKS OF FUCKING NATURE!
and you love us.
we make this sorry experience
called life - we make it wonderful,
tolerable, tangible, liveable.
we’re not JUST people,
not just human- we’re fireworks,
we’re supernovas,
the magnesium as it hits the water,
the biggest fucking bang!
hold onto your genitals boys, girls and everything else-
cause we’re going to blow this
world wide open. we’re the diamonds
in the rough, stars set in coal,
we’re the fire you stole from the gods…
and, baby? all you are is dust.
FOR CHARLIE
i wonder if your sky is like mine,
if the clouds go on forever
or if there’s blue, where you are.
i wonder if you like tea
and the smell of pennies, or blood.
it’s strange - a kind of technophilia,
loving you from far away.
i hate the ocean. i never liked it
but now it’s evil, terrible, mean.
i wonder about your cuddle position,
if you’d mind that i snore
and sing in my sleep, and purr.
for a dog person, i love you
a surprising amount
(i could live with dogs for you).
i wonder if you smell nice.
i wonder if you’ll like me.
my tea’s gone cold
maybe i should come to you
(i’d like to meet your brother)
would that be strange?
i might miss the clouds, but
probably not.
this was a poem.
UNTITLED
I run through heaven with the flames of hell at my feet;
wanton fire that licks and laps it way across, over, under my skin.
Baby, you can keep whatever’s left of me, any part or portion.
If I abandon myself to this, to fall, it’s all going to be alright -
you’ll choose what’s right for me, what’s Right.
Take me, take these smouldering shards that cracked in the heat;
cover me in bites and bruises, blemishes that are all your own
so everyone may know you have me, all of me, owned and branded.
I’ll be scarred by your fingertips, gratefully broken by gentle words
and caresses that scalded, smiles that wounded, and you, always you.
Pretty menace of a thing; even when you leave, you burn -
the after image of your smile like charcoal on the inside of my skull.
I’ll breathe easy when I see you, when the smog of your absence
no longer fills my lungs like your ghost, reminding me of you.
Your eyes are warm to me - like burning coals
or the lit end of a cigarette I forget to smoke, burning down to ash.
Every piece of armour, stripped away and melted down in those eyes,
making a steel cell for every smile;
for every sigh and song and bruise and cruel mistake, for every kiss,
and for the grace we had (keep it safe).
