Wednesday, 11 July 2018

I'll Be Your Battery When You're At A Critically Low Percent

If you can't get out of bed, if you can't get out of your head,  if you can't get over all the embarrassing things you're worried you may or may not have said, if the mere thought of tomorrow fills you with dread, if your whole being is in torment, I'll lie with you and together we can be depressed. I won't pretend this is the vision of love of which I dreamt, but being with you is the only vision my heart will accept.

Thursday, 5 July 2018

Worms

When no one likes me, that's when I'll be free. That's when I'll be feeling totally and wholly carefree. That's when I'll be over that desperation, that craving notion that nobody wants me. I am ready to fade. From the role of my life to become an absentee. To be as synonymous with background as a painting of a landscape featuring a tree. I am ready for you to forget me. I am ready to sink back and be one of the surging faceless people moving across platforms from one train to the next. Disappearing into indifference, book-ended by regrets.

Length And Breath

Are we so far apart that death will never do us part? Are we so wildly different that these are just lies we're together whispering? I want to find the tree of life, nail you against it and hear you whimpering, as the world around you turns to dust and the skulls of all the folks we ever knew are gaily glistening. I want to watch the earth and everything end. I want to watch the universe fissuring. I want to watch it all with you and make sure you're listening - when I tell you I never loved you and I leave you lonely lingering.

Friday, 15 June 2018

This One Sucks

Your soft pink lips. The corner of your eyelid tips. Where the soul inside your meatbag sits. Where the air and light and colour slips. My gaze sucks on like little thrips, desperately thirsty for their weekly hit. Instead they get that petrol spritz, and fall down dead like fattened ticks.

I Saw You Crying In Your Factory Ripped Jeans, I Wonder If You Have Been Keeping Up With Your Vaccines

Everything repeats itself and gets faster, like you're endlessly playing Galaga? Who wrote this ridiculous palaver? I would cut him up and turn his skin into a parka. The world is full of ridiculously terrible written shit, what on earth is he doing further fouling it with this. I'd rather read tea leaves steeped in elephant piss, than anything on this stupid looking website of his. I'd rather go to my grave never having known the pain, of reading the terrible drivel dreamt up by such a stupid brain.

Life In This Hell, Where Everybody Is Or Isn't Going Swell

I'm sorry, but I can't visit you anymore, your husband looks as if he's at death's door, my eyes find his face and then immediately drift away to trawl the floor. I don't know what to do, I'd really love to see you, but mortality and slow decay is more than I can handle. I think that I will have to take your picture down from up upon my mantle.

I love you but to your memories you no longer hold a candle.

Monday, 11 June 2018

Puddle

I'm sleeping in a puddle of piss, and all I can think about is this: that life's least pleasurable things are for what we wish, while life's most pleasurable moments are what we miss.