We dance to the sound of sirens

when i try and tell you words
in so awkward ways
i walk sweaty palmed with torment
who barrels my temple
so i splutter the truth



i'm sorry my love
somewhere in the past
few minutes i lost you
i'll just pull my knees to chest
and you can tell me
what i missed

oh, before you start
i saw the sunrise this morning
and i spread my wings below it
i slipped into the breeze going by
and how i flew!
tomorrow i shall wake you
and we shall leap at once
into that slipstream
you can hold my ankles
and we shall form a human chain
shall i speak some more? ok
i scatter more words on our conversation
for interests sake only
i could sit here with you forever
your breath would be enough

my hidden cambridge lies within

i recently visited cambridge; these poems are really a series of thoughts that all happened while i was sitting on the banks of the cam river. actually, that's not entirely true; the second poem was written on the train from ely to cambridge. i found it an amazing place to write - it might not seem it, but those few days gave me a very crystal idea of my thoughts. thoughts of thoughts i suppose. the second poem also steals its form from a poem i wrote a while ago called skin on skin. though i suppose because no one reads this except nothing, it doesn't matter if i'm self-referencing.

Oh to be different
of world and time
to be marked not
by the brush that reminds me
I am not good enough
There, drifting away
buried beneath the slowly
ambling river
Departs who I was to be
Adrift! my cultivated plans
Afloat for redemption
and in torrid understanding
I cling to my
effervescent sorrow
straining in me
desperate to claw bacl
what-who-whichever
slipped beneath the surfaced
and dreamed away.

I am haunted by my dreams
not by darkness or fright
nor black souls or death from high places
but by my happiness
that lives so freely there
outside my waking hours
so merry and free while I slumber
[which flees as the pale dawn approaches]
withdrawn, caged, elusive
while my eyes see

A slow warmth dawns upon my back
as the cold chatters at my fingertips
a creeping thirst
beckons me to leave
why can I not act?
which dart missed the bullseye
and left me with nothing
but the capability to put
in words
what I cannot [say] show.

You are cruel, you, they, why
give me the awareness
of what I'm doing
so I cannot do it
then briskly come
take my words as well
so that I sit again
with warm to my back
straight backed
freezing
and mute once more
You, in some will, in the form of a dog
give me a moment's respite
from which I can turn
and breathe
only to return
to find the words gone
you are so cruel.

(Cambridge, 27 Oct 2008)

Inside me broods a longing; low
and restless in my stomach, no
I shall not lose my steely nerve

and though appearances must be kept
and rules regarded, desires; slept
I know not what I should not do

and circle round each other, we
in courtly dane, respectfully
decline to take that final step

Though perfect and desirable; he
does not make word nor come at me
and I, in gutless wonder, stand

and though the possibility
is there, no strings, is boundless, free
somehow it shan't be overcome

and though I yearn each time he leans
to speak to me, I know it means
I cannot step; I cannot break

Our eyes have met in brief and then
for fear of finding 'it,' we bend
and dance around the rules again

so when I go; will he remember me?
or when I move; resigned, shall he
be someone that I cannot know?

as different lives breed different fates
are we just two who shall not wait
and go instead with luck and chance?

and there but for the grace go I
but I alone, and wondering; why,
how life would be if I'd taken a chance.

(ely-cambridge, 28th oct 2008)

so...there they are. for chris, my lovely host in cambridge, who i think is just perfect :)

Mal, mal mal francais

It, uh, it is difficult for me, to saying...in english.

Moi aussi, mais en francais. C'est difficile.

Yes, but your French, it is very good.

Merci, mais c'est pas vrai...donc, qu'est-ce que tu penses de...erm...mon...accent?

You what? Your what?

Er, le...facon...dans quel...je parle...quand je dit les mots...par exemple je dit francais, mon dieu, au secours...c'est bien? Ils...vont...bien?

I...sink so. Ttttthhhhhink so I understand. When you speak, it...er...is sounding french? Yes?

Oui, c'est bien?

Yes! Your french is very nice. Et...ah...and my english? It goes okay?

Oui, ton francais va bien. How can I possibly say I love you without sounding stupid.

Ah, san...tthhank you. C'est trop beaucoup, je peux pas expliquer.

Veux-tu du cafe? sigh

Ah, yes, please. C'est fini

Thoughts of a 15 year old

There is no truth in truth. There is no lying if you lie. Men have died for smaller offences than loving you but women have died for more. I see no sense in reality but have no heart to dream. I'm not on ice and I have no mouth but my mind speaks loudly to the audience of death that awaits our departure from this world. There is no sense in this reprieve but why reprieve when I am insane. Long live the death of communism long reign the randomity in my thoughts. I Luv Communism. Marxist out.

For a darker turn

She was just standing there, asking for it. Saul could feel his left foot going numb for the concentration. Switched feet. Someone behind him muttered something about trying to get to the bar. Saul ignored it (though not fully) and instead pulled out his pocket knife. The punter spotted quickly and moved off. The barman noticed too.

'Mate, whatcha got tha' for. Put it away.' Saul smirked, flicked the blade with his fingers.

'Pipe down, mate. Just cleanin' ma nails.'

'Sure enough, you just keep that well clear o' my bar from now on.'

With a brief hesitation, Saul flicked the blade shut and tucked it into his top pocket.
'For later, then.'

He turned his attention back to the leggy brunette at the bar. Thoughtfully (or at least as he imagined) he ran his hand over his 3-day growth. She'd be easy. Whores like that always were, flashing their legs, their gold everywhere. Never met one he couldn't get - or on the rare occasion he did, that he couldn't beat and rob afterwards. The perverse satisfaction of immense physical power sat warmly in his stomach as he waited for her to finish her drink and stumble outside to his advances. He lit a cigarette and went out to wait.

***

Cordelia had been watching the...oaf, from across the bar eyeing Fiona all night. Everytime he moved, she was ready for him to come over and grab her friend. She was never quite sure what she would do if he came over, but she was constantly ready for it.

'Cor, what's wrong? You've spent the whole night gawping. Can you please try and have fun? I know, it's hard...'

'I'm telling you, that creep is staring at you.'

Fiona looked over as the guy was getting a talking to by the barman who was gesturing at something in his hands. She looked back to Cordelia.

'Really? Looks like he's just at the bar, like most other people in this place. Seriously, Cor, just get over it and come hang out with these people! They're great.' She pulled at Cordelia's cardigan. 'Who knows, you might actually get along with Jo? You know, the guy I brought here to meet you, who you haven't spoken to at all, the whole night, who I promised you would like...'

Cordelia sighed. 'I know, alright. Alright.' She looked back at the man, in his dark red leather jacket, who was now stroking his facial hair in a way that she guessed he considered thoughtful, but really just looked menacing. He lit a cigarette and came towards her and she was about ready to leap at him, but he just passed slowly and went out the door to smoke.

***

Saul waited for what seemed hours. That dirty bitch, he thought, she's probably in there talking to every guy in the place, looking for one to go home with. Bet she doesn't even have a home. They're all the same. Finally, as he was finishing his fourth cigarette, a large group of 20-somethings spilled onto the path in front of him. Four boys dressed as men, complete with dirty sneakers and jackets, interspersed with about double the amount of barely-dressed girls. As he was about to give up hope of the brunette coming out, he noticed her friend emerge from the spinning doors. She looked over at him, shrugging on her jacket and lingered just a bit too long before looking back and calling her friend on. Saul rolled his eyes. Typical skank, he thought, gotta have some butch dyke to keep her. They're probably both lesbos. He dropped the butt onto the ground, made a hocking at his throat and spat on the footpath. The group rounded the corner away from the bar, and as they disappeared from view, he pulled himself off the wall slowly and went back inside.

***

'Jackie! Jackie! Come here!' Fiona, having had her fill for the night, was a little more exuberant than usual. She skipped to catch up with her friend, and they linked arms, giggling.

'She's a handful, hey?' Cordelia looked suprisedly to her left to find herself face to face with Jo, who she had been avidly avoiding since Fiona had made such a big deal about introducing them earlier.

'Er, yeah, I suppose. Sometimes. She doesn't always drink this much.'

Jo laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure. Do you guys go out much?'

'Not really.'

'Come here often?'

'Nah.'

'Say more than two words?'

Cordelia only just managed to supress her smile. 'Occasionally.'

Jo smiled. 'I look forward to it.' An awkward silence between them engulfed the end of his sentence. Cordelia looked up, as if a passing meteorite might give her an out.

'Cor! Cor!!! Wait, wait wait wait, we need to go back. Back, right now!' Fiona took Cordelia by the hand.

'Hang on...wait, why?'

'I left my jacket there, silly, now I'm all cold. Plus it's my favourite, and we're only a couple of minutes away. Come on!' She began pulling.

'Wh-hang on, we can't just go by ourselves. Get the others to wait...'

Fiona shook her head and kept pulling. 'Can't, they've got to get to the train station before the last train.'

'And us?'

'We'll just get a taxi or something. C'mon, if we hurry we might be able to get the train.'

Cordelia looked back at the group, at Jo who was looking back at her. She merely shrugged and waved at him to go on.

'Come on!'

The two girls pressed themselves together against the cold. 'It's cold, hey?' mused Cordelia.

'Which is why I need my jacket...'

'This the jacket you need, ladies?'

Cordelia, having been watching the ground, looked up in the direction of the voice. Standing, a little too casually, against a wall on the other side of the street, was the guy from the bar. Cordelia felt her heart drop heavily into her stomach, and began to pull back. Fiona, having had enough to drink to suspend her perception of reality, moved forward.

'Oh, thanks! I'm glad I didn't have to go all the way back to get it, it's so cold!' She reached out for the jacket, and the man, smirking slightly, held it out just a little from his body.

'Silly to leave things lying around like this, you know. Anyone could pick it up.'

'I know, and it's my favourite jacket too! Thanks so much for picking it up.' She took the jacket from him, frowning slightly when he didn't let go immediately.

'Nothing at all, sweetie. Nothing at all. Here, let me help you with that...' he reached out and helped put the jacket around her shoulders. As she linked her arms into it, he reached around her and buttoned it up.

'Wouldn't want you getting cold now, would we sweetie...' his voice trailed off as his hands lingered on her chest. Fiona moved to shrug him off but he lingered stronger.'

'I'm just making you nice and warm...'

'Get off her!'

Saul swung around without letting go of Fiona.

'You heard me. Get off her.' He bared teeth at her.

'How come? Just helping your little friend here keep nice and warm...'

Cordelia took a step forward. 'I said, get off her.' She took another step forward. 'Now.'

Saul laughed. 'And why would I do that? She seems to quite like it...' Fiona let out a little whimper. 'See? See how pleased she sounds?'

Cordelia took another step forward. 'Let go of her now, or...'

'...or what? You gonna come give me a kick with those big dirty dyke boots of yours?' The man spat on the ground. 'Why don't you just run along and give us a bit of time together.'

'Let her go now! I meant it!' She charged at the man. He met her with his heavy boots, squarely in the stomach. Doubled over, Cordelia fell backwards onto the path. The man laughed and, holding Fiona's arms together behind her back, stepped forward and kicked Cordelia in the head, laughing. 'Dirty bitch. That'll teach you.' Fiona began to cry. The man looked back at her and laughed more.

'Please...pl...please let me...go, I, how did this...ow, ow, please j-'

'Shut up, bitch. I don't need you wailing on as well. And stop pulling...'

'What do you want? Do you want my wallet? My bag? Anything, just, just ta-ta-take it, p...please...'

Saul hit her with the back of his hand. 'Shut up. I told you to shut up.' He took out his pocket knife and flicked the blade open. He held it to her throat. 'If you talk again, I'll cut your voicebox out. You gettit?' Fiona nodded. 'Good. Now howsabout we go somewhere a little less...' he looked at the unconscious form of her friend on the ground '...dirty, huh?' He held the blade to her throat with one hand and moved his other hand down to her hip.

'Now, just spread them legs littl-'

A loud bang echoed from the alleyway directly behind them. Fiona screamed and started running, disappearing around the corner. Saul dropped to the ground, a bullet wedged firmly between his shoulder blades, dying noisily. From out of the shadow of the alley, Jo stepped forward, and shot the man twice in the head, then disappeared back into the alley.


When she woke up, Cordelia wasn't sure whether she'd been hit by a truck or a bus. She sat up and immediately screamed, then screamed again, then started crying. The body of the lifeless man who had knocked her unconscious lay metres away, his open eyes staring straight at her, looking right at her had it not been for the pool of blood that stemmed away from his head and the two holes in his forehead. Unable to see or hear for her tears, Cordelia stood up, fell over, stood again. She wiped her eyes, screamed again, and began her long walk home.

***

Endless Turbulence

Where are you taking me
why am I coasting across the sea
why do my feet skim the surface
without breaking it
are the waves shining
or are my eyes tinted gold?
why do I feel like I'm flying
how am I even moving
planted firmly upon the ocean
the light of the whole world
twists and shrieks
to sing my lullaby to me
are my veins empty of life
or full of death
truth is only a version
of a story woven by choice
oh, I do feel
I feel
change in the air
a static change that climbs onto me
and purring in my ear
coaxes me into lying
not down, but to myself
you are, you are, you are
and when I am not,
he slinks off
and lingers in the violent shadows
until I am again
there as my amness freefalls into the world
gathering speed, burning through the atmosphere
I see, as if from above
with my stratospheric desperation
it fall into the shadows
where it is lost
and the change, with glinting eyes
begins its feast on me

recourse

Oh, supplication
you saturate my fifth with your sumptuous third
sitting high like a volta
i hold on for age;
that soft light
stroking my skin
i can feel it washing over me
we sit in warm silence
a spectacle of tension
when you run my hands through your hair
those soft chords echo
and the echo bounces back
into the dark wool
oh just
to
touch
to savour and take
oh, supplication
fill the chord
be the third
feel the inner middle east satisfied
to the sated outer west
course it in you
oh, supplication
unto the distant dusk
take my suspended seventh
hold it over me
make me a martyr
a diminished sixth
a sultry fermata
said alma mater
suspend me
save the fifth
and bring forth your third
until the last second
hold your tongue;
take your tonic;
release.

kiss kiss bang bang

wait! she comes to a stop beside him, hands on her knees, panting. wait...a sec.

what? he scuffs impatiently, looking over his shoulder at a clock that could be there.

i'm addicted to you. she stands up straight, a panted agony on her face, wiping her brow with her sleeve. can't help it. addicted.

you're addicted to me? he opens his eyes a bit wider. what?

yeah, i know. her breathing slows a little. sounds stupid-

-is stupid. what? how can you be addicted to some---me?

don't know. wish i knew. she looks away for the time, clock behind him telling her nothing. just...am.

right...okay. do we have to talk about this now?

FUCK. yes we have to!

alrighty then. well?

don't know. don't...know. i'm, i, i just, need. to see you. a lot.

i'd figured.

no shut up, i... she falters. i need you.

you need me? i'm sorry, i can't do-

-i don't want that. i just want you. i can't explain it-

-so i see.

i don't care if we date. i don't care if we don't. i just need you. more.

why? what's good about me?

nothing! nothing nothing, there's nothing good about you.

there's bleak winter sunlight filtering through the trees above. thanks.

no, yes, you know what i mean don't you? he shrugs his black pullover, plays with his bag strap.

well it's a bit strange-

-you know i'm strange.

ha. yeah i know.

yeah so get over it. i can't help it. i'm addicted to you. every time i do something i think of you. everytime i want to tell someone something i want to tell you. everytime i fucking move i think about what it would be like with you there.

does that not sound scary to you?

wha-fuck you. think beyond the here and now for a second would you. do you always have to be so fucking literal?

well, yeah here i do.

ugh why am i ever heeere. see, i'm here and i feel like fucking shit. but i still like being with you. god, if i said this to anyone else, if anyone said this to any girl in any movie ever they'd be married with three kids by now.

well that's my point, i don't want that do i?

i'm not here to stifle what you want. i'm here to say what i want. and it's you. i told you, i don't care if you don't want to date me, now, ever. i...

you what?

i don't know. i ache for you.

ha.

no shut up, not like that. i want to hug you, love you, talk to you, have you mean the most to me.

god, do you have to talk like that?

yes i do! i'm sorry if it's not what you want to hear.

i can't. why now? why like this?

because i'm sick of it. i'm being tortured. i feel sick.

what do you want me to do about it?

well clearly this is fucked up. great. this always happens. fuck. fuck fuck fuck fuck-

-hang on-

-no fuck off. fuck OFF. don't touch me! i can't do this. this always happens i don't ask for this but it always happens i want ONCE just ONCE for someone to love me more than i love them!

...

i...i don't know what i can do. this is it. this is where it ends. it's here that i lose part of myself and spiral deeper again-

-spiral what? you're getting all psycho on me-

-i. didn't. ask. you. to talk.

sorry...

i...i'll see you...sometime

alright.

I am on, switched on

There are some songs I don't think I can live without.

Really? she flicked her butt to the ground and looked up.

Yeah, I think so. I listen to them and I come away from...some edge. They bring me. Does that make sense?

No, not really. Why do you do it then, if music is enough? If it's-

-it's not though. He rubs his eye with his sleeve, catches his eyelid with his watch. Ow, fuck. Yeah, nah it's not enough. It- look fuck I don't know do I it just...why do you always have to ask questions? Fuck you.

Whatever, don't be a whore about it. Fuck, it's like 2 o'clock. I have to work tomorrow.

He reached out to her. No, stay a bit more. It's cold up here, I'll get all cold without you.

Oh shut up. You're so annoying. She stands up and pulls her jeans up by the belt, kicking her legs out and tucking her fingers into her underarms to keep them warm.

I might be annoying, but I'm also the best ever. Cmon staaaaaay. Look at the view, fuck, it's so good. I don't know how lights can be so.....bright?

Haha, fuck you are so stupid. Fine. But not for long. I have to work in the morning and it's so shit when I'm tired at work. She sits down again beside him, dangling her legs off the barrier.

Shit, car!

Fuck, jump down, go! They jump off the freeway railing into the scrub below.

Has it gone past yet?

Don't you think you'd hear it? Hang on...

God I hate this. Best place to sit in town, except it's on a fucking freeway. Go figure, fucking government or some shit, always doing this shit. Like, build a fucking house here or something.

You're so circumspective, have I ever told you that?

Stop using big words, why can't you talk like a normal person? He pulls out his lighter. Another?

Nah it's good. But feel free.

Oh I will. He lights up. Man I don't know how people can live without this shit. It's like a fucking drug.

It is a drug you loser. She slaps his knee and he holds her hand there. Sometimes I wonder why I spend my nights with you like this.

Like what?

Well, normal people go out, have dinner, go to clubs, watch movies, have sex like rabbits-

Yeah, well we've done all that.

Well not all of it.

Yeah...well. He takes a drag. Whatever. Give it time! You're so impatient.

I'M impatient? I'm sorry, who's the one who expects me to leap to attention whenever he has a spare night?

That's not impatience, you know you want to.

Fuck off.

Ahaha, here. He coughs. Have a drag, stop being shit.

I'm not being shit. She takes a drag. You're so bad for me.

Why? He takes hold of her hand.

Because you're like this! Because we're like this, and like, I don't know, you hold my hand on a freeway railing? Why can't we be normal?

You want to be normal? Aren't you always the one telling me that normal is what, boring as batshit?

Yes but...oh fuck you. You know what I mean. Why are you like this? You're such a fucking douche.

Douche? Like what even is that word? You pull these fucking words on me, can't you just talk like a normal person?

Only if you conventionalise our relationship.

Fuck you.

Fuck you more.

You wish.

Yeah, so? You'd think after two years you would too.

Did I say I didn't?

It's not what you have said but what you haven't said. She pulls her hand back. What you think I'm stupid?

Well, now you ask-

-no fuck you. You're so unfair to me.

Aren't you making this a bit personal now?

Well it is fucking personal. She kicks his foot. It is fucking personal, idiot.

Don't call me an idiot.

Oh for god's sake don't get all defensive and offended on me.

Well you called me an idiot!

Yes and you make me sit with you on a freeway overpass at 2am in the morning hoping like a fucking WANKER that you will say something I want to hear!

guh....can't you just leave it?

no i can't! i always leave it and it's always the same! how is this fair to me?

what about me? he flicks his butt back onto the road. what about what's fair for me?

oh, that's right 'let me go fuck around, you wait here, i'll be back in a couple of years, but in the supervening time i'll hold your hand on freeway overpasses.' fuck you. you're such a fuck. i hate you.

ugh, you are so annoying!

I'M annoying! she moves away from him. fuck you.

no, come on, shut up, come here.

no, fuck you. you're always like this and i'm sick of it.

come here, stop being stupid. He holds out his hands.

She doesn't move. No, you're always like this. I told you, it's not fair. It's not fair.

He moves over to her, puts his arm around her. God you are so annoying.

Thanks.

Look just...give it some time.

I've GIVEN it time. And you're still fucking retarded.

Well, it just has to be like that. I'm sorry, you know I love you...

No don't pull that shit on me, you always say that-

-because it's true. Now stop talking and enjoy the view.

and if i don't want-

-shut up. enjoy the view. Jesus woman, you are worse than anyone I've ever known.

You've just got no examp-

-stop talking. He rubs her arm gently and hugs her to him. Just enjoy the view.

Ah

When he betroths me to his future
what can I do?
I only stumble at the words
I should be saying
and grin pointlessly instead

When he takes a hand
and puts it to my face
and I like it
what's the difference
if he pulls it back at first
and puts it harder?

Then the things he says
so quiet
shout a promise he won't say
give me hope beyond the reason
that I said I'd never sway

So I sit upon the shelf
and look upon the life he lives
and he casts his eyes upon me
every time
he makes a choice
and he brushes past my ear
whispers nothing
and I shake.

Serotonin

Like lovers did in those days, their hands twined quietly beneath the green tablecloth. Elspeth chattered noisily next to them, a monstrous beacon on her parents radar, hiding the hands from view. A slight smile spelt out over his lips. She chewed her corn peacefully to subdue hers. He stroked down her palm and she chewed a little quicker.

The conversation was a series of gruff ornaments and twitter, for which neither cared. It was etiquette, it was required. During a lecture on the common themes of the evening newspaper, she pushed her foot between his, the warm of her leg causing him to drop his fork.
'You right son?' A slight pause:
'Yes sir, sorry, please continue.' Eyes flicker to her hands, which are fetching more water. The evening newspaper suffers a little more.

During dessert his right hand finds her knee. He etches their initials into it and hopes to see it there later. She smooths her napkin and digs her nails into his hand.

Later the women are cleaning up, Elspeth like a mad torrent of ideas, organising and sequentialising. The men sit in the front room. Hunter and hunted. He speaks first:
'I think your daughter is most charming.'
'You would say that.'
'Oh?'
'They all say that.'
'Oh.'
'What do you intend with her?'
He thinks a moment; he could fail here:
'I intend only that to which she would consent, Sir.'
'And what does that mean?'
Damn. Blown it. Recover:
'If she will have me Sir, I will gladly serve out my days to her whim.'
Ah, curled lips. Better.
'Better have some brandy then.'

Brandy puts the old man to sleep in 10 minutes. He begins to snore. She calls him from the kitchen. He stands, puts the old man's glass on the table, and let's the door catch behind him.

'Tea?'
'No thank you, Ma'am.' Ma'am puts down the kettle.
'Elspeth, why don't you show me the drawing you did yesterday?' Elspeth looks up:
'But Mama, I showed you y-'
She catches on and they exit stage right.

He moves slowly through the flickering light which pulses like a strong ether trying to hold him back.
'I traced my name on you.'
She looks disbelieving.
'Look.'
She pulls up her long skirt, faint faint red marks on her skin. She looks up as he pulls up in front her. She lets her skirt down, patting off her damp hands, uncreasing her forehead. He puts a hand to her ear and cradles her head. He puts another hand to her other ear and holds her head before him. She looks out lazily, his face a warm glow. He admires her softness. Her head lolls gently. Slowly he pulls his hands onto their fingers, webbing themselves around her head. She smiles warmer still and he notes to do this again. He brings his face close to hers; oh she is so dewy! he remarks to himself, almost giggling out loud at the word. She smells of warm kitchen. His unpolished skin grazes her and she gasps, having closed her eyes and being unaware he was so close. She opens them and looks sidelong at him; he pauses his ministrations, then continues. She places her long hands on his waist and for a moment he forgets himself. Then he recalls and steps back. Confused, she reaches for him, but he stands well back from her, letting the air fall between them.
She moves to close it, but he steps again and twice shy she stops. He simply looks. For minutes, minutes bending into more minutes he looks, she displays. They study each other, not wanting to forget their forms. She pulls at her beaded décolleté. A swift ticking marks the end of each second, and still he looks. She moves her left foot; he shakes his head. She lowers her gaze along with her inhibitions and pulls at her top button 'til it slides open. Inward he gasps and makes a note to look slower.

Somehow, now, movement, touching would be inappropriate. Here they were not acting for an unknowing audience. Here they were simply acting for each other, and this, they knew, called for restraint and withholding. He dared not touch her nor she him. All he allowed himself was the searing glow of wanting bleeding from his pores, his eyes yelling themselves hoarse at her long slow body that held his gaze. She concentrated on the soles of her feet and chastised herself for not cleaning under her nails. Her soft palms pushed together and as she pulled them apart a thin thread of longing spilt onto the floor. She looked up again and caught his eyes. She closed hers, saving them for later. She opened them seconds later and caught only his wake as he breathed through the door into the night beyond them.

She watched him down the path, a soft candle glow coming from him, the one that told her he left with only one moment, one person, one thing on his mind.

From upstairs, Elspeth and Mama watched on.
'Is it always like this, Mama?' A soft grin to the darkness;
'You should only ever take it like this, dear.'

onward and upward and over and out

in fields of grey they climbed
like dreamers pursued by the dawn
with the roof of the world on their foreheads
and the pits of hell in their hearts

onward and upward in stillness
through a dark and impenetrable sheen
and a vast rolling vista of living
lay below them

from the west at the ether it rippled
to the east where the world ripped away
the great shadow of eternity lies onward
and with deep breaths of life they move on

and the last throes of life of her body
shudder recklessly up to the arc
as the last breath of water consumes her
she too climbs through grey to beyond.

the neverending story

a puckering of light edges over the hill
like a twitching bead it grows
spilling out through the veins of leaves
and in through eaves over window panes
little stirrings, the heat moving in its lightening slumber

an easterly sighs in from afar
bringing whispers of lighter times to come
the constant ocean beats over a pasty shore
and cold toes edge over the rocky fore
while birds are roused and brought out

softly beating steps on footpaths
as mothers stop to check their children's chests
rising, falling
the acrid waves of bread fly high on rooftops
with angelic wings they beat over into the dawn

the gold creeps over roadsides
where blooms are waking to its touch
and sweetly sleeping nature starts its long haul upwards
as the darkness fades away into the light

where does that black go?
it lies upon the ground for hour on hour
only to be erased as the light spreads further
like the ink from a red shirt to a white one
how does it not spread? where does it go?

like deviant wonderings
the wanderings of the gold spread
over lampshades and letterboxes
onto abstract thought and art nouveau
like a slowly, an interminable disease

then, lo! it crumbles in the west
it scuttles quick with a line of reference
down through the thickening blue
to black, which has lay in wait for hour on end
and now seizes its chance once more

Where y'at? Where y'at? Where y'at? Where y'at?

Busker

A foul shadow, of bliss and darkness
cast upon my feet, upon the windy tide
my heavy-lidded eyes upon the ebb
a hue of dread that flows so wide

I strum beneath the waves, so lowly
unblinking, a chink of metal falls
sensual vibrations echo through the ground
rain falls high past the mouldy walls

"oh, oh," I sing, shadows fall in mocking
I just stand, the rain so falls, seeking redemption
"Giz anoth!" the future calls, I scowl
the rain washes my boots, I end up with absolution

all over my boots, "sorry pal" he glances
absoluted absolutely everywhere, "no mind,"
I kick a stone, strum, "oh, oh" they hiss
I think of school, a life where I was once defined

A girl appears, a stroke of light, I strum harder
she catches me, she smiles, and the rain just now subsides
I hold her there, "oh, oh," she grins, a prick of life
I kick the coins shut, take my strumming, only now decide

Take her hand, she doesn't realise, doesn't see, still she smiles
As I grow to a building climax of life, she feels so small within me
On and further and faster and quicker we run to the edge of the waiting rain
then she stops, and I stop, and she smiles, and I frown, and she goes, and I strum.

Books I wan' read

Rule by Secrecy - Jim Marrs

Hyperspace: Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps and the Tenth Dimension - Michio (Michlo? Michto?) Kaku

The 12th Planet: Book one of the Earth Chronicles - Zacharia Sitchin

...no prizes for guessing why

All in for two

A flushed bright upon my skin
a writhing dusk gives way to night
and all around me is a wild
and fantastic light
reaching from my top to chin

Appearing from the eerie dark
a voice, cutting, speaks out to me
illumed, princess, a tortured slay
he whispers and I spin to see
from glowing black there grows a spark

a knife edge, cuts me cool and deep
I don't cry out, instead I breathe
into the lowest of my depth
and keep it there to kick and seethe
when all good day is done, I sleep

He wastes no time, and pulls me close
a breath upon my softened skin
and strokes a slow hand from my brow
to nose to cheek and down to chin
of lust, a lethal, sealing dose

I bite down, holding in my scream
a row of teeth skim past my neck
my back takes heed and bucks on cue
he's careful but some sweat, a fleck
lands on the carpet staining cream

I feel the plush beneath my feet
a soft red sting upon my lips
he skews my judgement as I sway
and pulls the rope taut on my hips
the blood that flows flows oh so sweet

A growing pain of sweet surrender
basks in knowledge of my flaw
as his lips dust past my shoulder
tap, a light noise on the door
he speaks, and says you may up end her

I wake to dazzled darkness, then
a light upon my face again
I feel a soft weight on my hand
I lift my head out of the sand
My tasty little girl, you rise

I bite down on congealed blood
and swear my own royal decree
I'll clean you up, I'm whisked away
I wake again, and now I'm clean
The dirt is gone, the sin and mud

I tap away on a keyboard plane
a simmering heat from a distant land
blows past my face, the door swings wide
It's two o'clock, I need a hand
And there my life starts over again

Things just work, my life just is
I seek no wisdom, find no wise
I become, not I am, and it plagueth me
that far beneath my truth are lies
that I am what I become and conjugate to is

I am the third person, I am her
a thud upon the floor, a cut
and bleeding wound, it's where I'll be
a whore, a self-despising slut
and life will go past in a blur

And tomorrow it shall be the same
I'll take off my clothes and push my toes in the plush
and I say something then, and he'll take to my throat
and he'll say and he'll do and he'll cut and I'll blush
and the next day I'll rise, and be back in the game.

A Slow Start

A belt of stars across the sky
appears as suddenly as a life
as testament to a false belief
that rather than live we prefer to die
the light in my feet now gives way to night
and rolling clouds rumble in
as a sign of hope, and a silky sin

an old fool is no fool
if the old fool is old school
and a patch of a quilt stitched to a wall
fits not as a patch but answers a call
and given their patch in the skin of all
the question is not if patch makes whole


and the song 'he writes so incongruously'
is sung like a hymn, so religiously
in the manner of zealots
in the manner of false
and turned to by hopeless when failed by all else

and the first step is hardest, is longest, is worst
and followed by one, the another and three
and deep inspiration comes slow without haste
as if to say, 'no, i shan't be owned by thee'

and it gradually fades and it gradually ends
it slowly grows softer and beigely blends
and the deep dark soft morning on night still depends

and grammar is beaten and moulded, slept in
like a recalcitrant child on a friday, kept in

apparently women bow down to the wind.