Shake my spine awake as bristles fall
Gaze slides over the streetlights the lamp
I fell onto dreaming of you and wishing
You would take me again through blood
The smile when you saw my scarred nose
The fear in your eyes the warnings before
I miss sitting on your chest I miss you
Pulling my legs close while I wriggle on
Your fallen angel keep you close to me
Our fallen angel keep me tight to you
The way the heart hurts for what it wants
The way my mouth gets wet to see you
Prayers I say to the night the moon
Its dead gods whisper in my ears that
Thing of ours like my child kicking is still
Breath in my lungs catching your stare
As you fill me and plant me and make me
Trees have it easier they don’t have to go
Tag Archives: love
I never want you to leave so
If I don’t let you in you can’t
Right I mean that’s how that
Works and so what if I’m never
Happy at least I’ll never breathe
A breath knowing you left me and
Find my own air tastes different
Rots the lungs drips out the pores
At least
Though five minutes is worth
The seeping whistle of a puncture
For eternity if with you
The Man I Want
Another you
You looked into my eyes and sold me shoes
You looked into my eyes
You got inside me and made me want
When you finished even you didn’t want me
You smiled and laughed and I bought the shoes beneath
Your raised eyebrows
But at that time you had a she who you loved
Then some time later I came to you again
An initiate
And I was lost in my mind as you played
Music
I drank until I could never be full again
And you played on
And you began to see how I cared
I wanted to help you selling drinking listening
Every part of you I wanted gave way
To something deeper
Every part of you I tried to build up with me
You smiled and laughed and I brought the shoes
Beneath your raised eyebrows
We lived for centuries moments corrupt with love
To last lifetimes we lived I lived for you
You’ve seen this
And all in quiet brown wood and cotton and wool
All in these ancient fabrics and the root of all colours
Your words are the sweetest rose thorns
We’re sitting at the bar and you take the one with most
Bubbles and I have the remainder that tastes
Tinted with your touch I
Imagine things
We enjoy the places between oblivions
Bookended like that they’re the only life
I caught you in my trap
That springs to rub along sides
Grasp and hold in warm places
You thought some libertine’s
Evening that these bodies
Would stop your capturing
So wanton a hare as this
Loose on your lot and holding
My hips some sachets of condiment
Served for this blissful moment
Ghosts possess the mind’s eye
Totemic emblems are tossed
The fact of a mythological meeting
Is always lost whether
In faerie caverns or converted
Bedrooms the feel of my flesh
Between your fingers recedes
Dreamt away with the flaccid joy
Of distinctly female caresses
Needing to be touched
The alarm clock and the bottle unfinished
The questions dissolved in ultraviolet daylight
You walk away with a limp or
Otherwise encumbered
farewell the bottle
Off-blue wall light and standing lamps that don’t stand
A single magazine on the table advertising crochet
The abyssal antechamber hangs off an endless
The kind of corridor you find in pyramids
Or don’t find
We waited for nothing and then someone came
To announce it was ready and read about crochet
Instruments could not play or work
A wide room, a single flower pot and hotel bedsheets
I walked over to his vacancy
The stillness does not end so I walk to the soft head
I kiss his blue lips that are blue like strange lipstick
I push my tongue into his cold mouth
His beard has not grown back to tickle my nose
He is dead and we all seem to know
So we leave the flesh on the bones to rot a little
Before the flames
The pyramid makers did not understand.
He’s a lovely lad but my advice remains
Forget him and find someone else easier
And smoother I think but much less desirable
Easier easy is good I think life is short and
Love is long etc ah love easy don’t fall in love
Easy though love is hard falling in love is
Easy you wanna love easy and fall in love
Hard and not for long a wank is a way out
Of feeling and meditation is this pent up lust
Only helps you enjoy the torment of longing
This guy Charles Bukowski is a genius I’d
Love him but he’s dead and he wouldn’t want
My love he’s dead comes first though coz if
I sucked him hard and drunk enough he
Might want me before the end cums
Twelfth Night Live and Online
There’s a love beyond a fuck that lasts
And a fuck beyond love too short they
Meet constantly like in a cheap Shake-
spearian comedy mistaken and struck
By tragedy but still living and awaiting
True recognition these siblings these
Comrades these necessary parts of one
All mixed and split in our lives so ruined
This too often unhappy tumbling a pain
In the repetition a sublime join in the
Resolution so long lost and trampled
You can fuck or be fucked and enjoy it
But not love eachother, and you can love
Forever without fucking, you can love
Deeper than sex, I wouldn’t necessarily
Recommend it but it is possible and the
Problem is we mix them up, someone
Thinks sex is love, someone thinks love
Is sex, people lose lust and go off fucking
And get crushed by their own still virgin
Love and the jealousy and then people
Having affairs think they’re in love just
Because they’re in bed together and all this
Fucking confusion, you need to know
What you’re doing you need to accept
How you feel you can fuck right and love
Right but it won’t always be both, and it
Won’t always be either and you have to
Have the sense to know and know that
Reality will keep on being itself regardless
Of what you want from it and that is just
How the fuck it goes.
Portraits of 19th Century politicians conceal half-remembered
Whispers from your lovesick lips and in the gallery standing
I put my hands down to feel the blue carpet in your room
And pulling at it rough the crunching sound of bunched fabric
Under nails and your eyes wandering to me
We both seem far too sober for this
And I think about going to wash for you
We end up brushing our teeth together after in a marriage
We’ll never see and making a great show of timidity
I slide my trousers down carefully obscuring
Until I’m beneath your sheets and you ask
This honest face this suddenly looking in my eyes
I stole a tiny piece of your heart there
But that’s not what a 19th century face would do
That’s not quite suitable will ruin the portrait
And you go cold as I cuddle you
And now in the morning awake I put away my brushes.
Smooth Cider Like Syrup, in Tankard
Because it brings me dreams of green
Those fillings between hop fields and farm lads
Toiling with their flagons over shoulder and a mean
Wage, hairy youth which sup on apples
The trees in the wind with that summer pollen
Breathing through worms and fruits of the morning
Spurned through til sunset falls atop the crest
The day done the night come
Because it brings me the righteous haze of dripping
Poison, the suckling brown bottle beauty sweating
Cold, the farm hands amid the crops caressing hands,
And beads of milky sweat on the brow, they stream
Salt shaken and mineral and pure to the lips
They press on the tongue their sheep’s eyes
Because it brings me sugar with its continual sipping
And slurping chasing the dream, taking away
Meagre earnings for meatier pleasures,
and the hanging fruit.
I’m Not
Butcher boy you cut it to an act
Some divine spark a mere and disgusting event
In your fearful eyes and me some stunted stag,
The gore of your knife-wielding hunter
Splat on my little horns, mocking us both