Month: April 2018

Black sun
Souls tucked under bandages
Bleeding hope
We are the flowers who bloom
When all is forgotten

My feet scuff
the uneven
cobbles
I kick my limbs
about
To French music
That i don’t
understand
The sickly smell
of pine greets
me
And the needles
poke at my bare
ankles
A distant
humming
Of a honey bee,
I’d like to
think,
Is all i need to stay

“I don’t know Jack shit about this.”
but we play anyway.
Bent cards flipping off the table,
focus in our gritted teeth
that is clear to all the passengers
on the train.
Our hands fly down, hard.
My thumb might break,
I think but just laugh,
our screams flutter down the aisles
and the Aces, to the floor,
next to our feet,
to our boots ,
tired of the Velcro of Yorkshire.

Imagine that the sky was filled with fluff.

With fluff, Ma?

Yes, looking soft as can be. Even softer than your fuzzy jumper you wore last Tuesday. And softer than your father’s beard-

wow, that’s amazing

-except it was just light water! So not really fluffy at all.

Water like from the tap? Could I drink it, Ma, could I?

There would be far too much for you to drink, dear! But the water would fall sometimes, to us, and if the sky was bright and blue, our land would fill with colour.

And what was colour like, Ma?

Lift the earth
Pull out the shrunken heads
Watch as they grin
Finally released
From their suffocating tombs
The dull skin is peeled
And they return to the funeral pyre
Covered in vinegar
And oil.

fragmented pearls
are presented
behind smudged windows
reflecting back my desire
to be in constant with you
Now and until

your nose wrinkles
with laughter
as we whisper swears
to the moss sleeping
in abandoned churches

I trace the dips
and valleys of your chin
that ducks with your smile

Your smile that rests in mine.

inspired by an extract from Frankenstein

I watched the sun
fall on her body
her cheeks still shiny
with the tears she had cried.
That
was the last life she showed.

The rope around her neck
was stopping her from leaving
in the slightest form of peace.

Instead she was chained,
swinging limply,
to Hell on Earth.

I want to go back to the tyre swing days
where the sun would go down when we said.
I want to go back to the plastic days
where happiness could be found in the adverts for shoes
with secrets in the sole
You handed me the can and
said ‘drink and remember

or thirst and ripen with me’

Fuzzy teeth from sour sweets
and grass stains on our hearts

Tell the royal kings and queens
we wild kids run these parts.

spinning wheels
forests
cement roads
raised hands that planned our lives for us
Sleeping Beauty rode a bike once
before crashing
on the sofa
feigning slumber
for the sake of overdue Maths homework