feelers noticed you.

Undercooked.
Lovely

4 The geriatric man crashed

into the bank in the wee hours of the morning.
Through glass and steel and into James, the poor
security guard. His kids are orphans now.

5 Toothpick, ball, chain, string.

N’oubliez the pachyderm.
Never I, never.

6 Ceaselessly imagined. I cannot breathe

unless she lets me. Like a bird shaking morning dew from a frosted branch, suckling at forbidden
nectar.
Tomorrow you will arrive with me. Arrivals are so sweet.

7 And were it true that you,

translucent, pale blue,
cracking cold air with fiery whips to make eggs meat
under silver moon,
under blue moon,

at once did utter in

muted, mangled mutterings.
Back snaps, bones crack, beat him to death.

Cloven hoofs neath cruel grin,

Folded leather wings.
I have seen them.
I have
Let’s pretend we don’t
seen them scratched up and shaded out like light snuffed when the tailor’s finished.
Let’s pretend we
Patched up,
Let’s pretend we
stitched together,
We don’t have to pretend
then torn apart like stars in the dark that fall and rot like leaf litter.
We don’t have to
We don’t have, we
The wind is an icy breath.
We don’t
The wind has
icy fingers.
Let there be darkness
The wind has
Brittle bones are my favourite
long tendrils that wrap like warm roots on my skin and rip from me that frozen yolk,
Brittle bones are my favourite
that winds dark sin.
Brit…… my fffffffffffffff*
But not in my eyes, no, not on my skin.
Those fingers chill
*Quickly get much louder, then slowly fade to silence
and her breath breaks brittle bones
8 Let’s descend together
where pressure builds insatiably. Shells sold within
2 Tasty. Plump. Zingy. Let’s dive deep together,
I don’t want to go to bed. Because if we get that far we’ll never float then never swim.
Africa is big.
I can forget the surface if you remember the splash
and make another promise to me;
3 Beautiful and keep the past the past, or we’ll never last.
everlasting.
Avenues dimly lit by Our hands unclasped.
undulating cigarettes attached
to men. At least now it’s out there, like wine in glass
Its writhing
 Her eyes are electric.
9 Fly outwards
like reach rays through cold, black haze
grazing moons and planets alike in lazy gloom. I won’t let go.
14 Black boots splash muddy puddles
Fly upwards as we walk between muddled gums and fallen palms
like cygnets startled from rest by a ruffled, white vest-wearing chest.
Up like balloons that rise, disappear, and pop in faint atmosphere. Her hand floats by mine.
Butterflies on the wind dance in time.
Fly freely I watch them flutter downwards,
like coffee stains on ancient tables brushed clean by varnish and magazines. my and brushes hers.
Twenty bucks on Gumtree.
Yellow wings on red petals,
fingers dance together
10 Fat lip, black eye, cauliflower ears that always heard just what they wanted,
And not much else. The water is cool,
hiding mussels and inside jokes.
She said, he said, but nothing of substance came from either. We dig for them in the shallows, and
I watch the weeds wither and wonder if they scream, into her
too lowly and slowly for our pricked ears, I fall
while they die. deeply.

Gorillas grab me. The mist is cold. Zen tea parties. Halloween movies. Home.

15 Crinkled alfoil clouds.

Cathedrals of ice and air.
11 Oh, at last Puffy pockets peel playfully,
I begin to tumble, clutching mountains and sky.
like bats at dawn
when sun brings heat, Dark shadows flicker,
dimming forest and field,
and sleep. quenching land and
diffusing that which all desire.
I plunge deeper
into blackness. Etching sandstone, frigid rivulets,
extravagantly celebrating gravity’s
That crooked gap between life and death retribution, carry silica debris
which, in its brimstone depths eternally down.
that wring affection
from a wrung-out soul, So goes the dance of mountains and valleys.
hugs me.

12 What am I cretin, 16 I am full of before.

that your eyes, Weighted dreams, unrealised
cast down, pitying, sink in my pockets and pull me down.
meet my meek visage?
Yesterday I should’ve had sausage not steak.
Play my requiem Last year, I should’ve picked her instead.
on snapped strings and broken bells Less recently, I should’ve run.
such that silence reminds no-one Why didn’t I?
of my life failed.
I am heavy inside.
Why does blue weigh so much?
13 Golden lightening, sharpened skies. I thought it was only colour.
Aqua splashed. Beautiful. Bright.

I stumble on elephant feet in tulip fields. 17 Would you dance with me?
Twisting, coloured, petal pathways follow me. I’m not very good but watching you move is like watching poetry.
Marbled skies admonish a clumsy gait and So, if we
once, twice, thrice, spear tusks with Zeus’ shot. could,
I’d be
 Forever grateful.
Here in this broken tomb, this graveyard
of gems and gold, I rebuild.
18 In the morning, They say she walks the desert with
when the rain has left the sky, no shoes so that she can sink into the sands and
what is usually boring disappear,
grows wings and learns to fly. that an unbridled rage erupts inside her when she sees injustice,
that her hair is indistinguishable from the air
They rise like steam from tunnel mouths when she's flying
and fall like ash upon the tress. in sandstorms,
Hungry creatures on the boughs that sinner's repent and priest's cannibalize them when they hear her crying.
Prey upon these delicacies. This time my sanctuary will have a door, and she may one day enter.

Invert old Icarus. Yes, lose your wings I will spend each night waiting in my gardens, staring at the stars.
when you shun the sun.
Dark places with your lover
is the prize that you have won. 20 Walking to water
on a heated summer day
is always worth it.

19 Here in this crystal tomb, this catacomb 21 A crustoct overwalks ambigeographical shores. Pinch, pinch, pinch. Consujoying unbreathing whales.
of gems and gold, I sit.
In this comfortable womb, crafted from all that shines in this hungry world, I am in sombre solitude
and I reflect, 22 Eggy cupcakes,
like those lofty quartz beams do sunlight in the morning, upon my place. of white, brown, and tan layers,
How long does it take for gems to lose their sheen, and for gold to tarnish? Longer than life, are soaked in the rain.
I suppose.

Here in this crystal tomb, this catacomb

of gems and gold, I breathe and wait.
I hear them outside when they're chipping away cornerstones and facia.
Here! A small gift to bring their in-laws.
There! A fortune to change a family.
There's more still! A diamond for a king, bringing favour to a lord.
All treasure is eyed and envied yet, once begotten by wayward teens and desperate men, dissolves to pale, green dust
which stings like seawater on wounds, and burns the pockets and hands of those hopeful marauders who would try grasp another's happiness,
to take it as their own.
Those who take too much suffer.
A scream fades to silence.

Here in this crystal tomb, this catacomb

of gems and gold, I am prisoner.
Those golden walls, that stand on exquisite marble, are beneath rafters inlaid with amethyst, sapphire, and jade. The largest beam, its
gargantuan nature a miracle in itself, is translucent, white stone flaked with schools of all hues of green and blue that seem to swim in the
rock. The light of a thousand candles, each sitting in candelabras encrusted with topaz and ruby, or glimmering crystal and diamond
chandeliers, refracts through that stoic, stone beam splashing a prismatic lightshow across the ancient roof.

Here in this crystal tomb, this catacomb

of gems and gold, I rise and watch my temple crumble.
Alone in heaven is still alone, and so,
with boarish tusks and ursine force, I grit my teeth and bear it.
I let the sandstorm topple the great arches that once hung above me.
I watch marble crack as sea water rises, through once stable foundations, tearing asunder
my shelter,
stinging old wounds and ripping from me, my coveted comfort.

Here in this broken tomb, this graveyard

of gems and gold, I can feel.
Each shift in the wind moves me as if a new song is being played and I am nothing but a dancer, compelled to move quickly, now slower,
now faster again, a reflection of this chaotic world. The sky, deep and dark, hangs above me, further than any builder could hope to place a
rafter or a beam, yet from them, someone has hung delicate stars in numbers that dwarf those of the extinguished candles,
in the graveyard of my security.
 23 Were I a cherub,
soft and small,
had I the bow,
one shot, two hearts,

would I want them to fall out of love,

so I might shoot them once again?

24 I am an acorn
Hidden like secrets, or lost,
or squirrelled away.

25 The Gold Coast girls are always hotter,

but when I speak to them, they seem
so sad.

Don’t cry
Gold Coast Girl

26 I miss you;
like a man missing the cigarette he just crushed underfoot,
like rain, the clouds; flowers, the rain; or bees, flowers,
like broken plates (I feel broken) miss being whole,

like a fucking idiot.

27 Blossoming boy begs bashfully,

“Please pay properly prior procreation”
“Surely she services sans settling silver”
“Nope, not Nelly.”

28 A storm forms
under the neon glow
of a hanging shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~