Halloween
20/07/2018
And in the moment between
my alcohol-inspired slumber
and his drug-fuelled insomnia
he pressed his drunk fingers
against my patient back
and mapped a perfect and precise future
Monday
17/07/2018
Another sun
Or maybe the same
Wakes us early
And forces us to change
Again
But remain very much the same
And hustle into another car
Which gives good news
Exciting scary news.
Us three
Walk down past ruined castles
And beaches
And talk about each other
And laugh about each other
And queue for something
Very much worth queuing for.
Home again
To spend
Another never-ending night
Talking about
How amazing it has been
And I think
How strange it is
That your thoughts are mine
And I cannot wait to wake up
Tomorrow (and for many more tomorrows)
In a good mood
‘I think it might be your fault’
Sunday
14/07/2018
Another morning is ours
And waiting
When we open our eyes
To sweat and sun
And cover ourselves in more
Or less
Cloth
And meet him
Who I haven’t seen in a while
And miss.
In the car we gallop
Down motorways
And get caught in a storm
Of people
And when we land on the beach
We seek shelter
To eat our sand sprayed
Sandwiches
And listen to poetry
That I haven’t written
But wish I had.
At home we waste hours
Eating, drinking
Listening to me talk
And listening to him listen
A soft hum and nod
And then decide
To take the night
And watch other’s laugh
Upon borrowed bikes.
And it feels so good
To have him
And to let him have me
Because I have never met myself
Or seen myself so closely
And he’s making me love her
And telling her
‘You’re not the only one’
But meaning something other
To what ‘he’ has said before.
Saturday
11/07/2018
Hungover mornings
On their balcony
Smoked salmon
Bitter on my tongue
Melting with the aftertaste
Of martini
But soothing too
And friendlier.
We walked to the dene
And bent down to speak
To lower creatures
Who melt me
And her
And then to spend our last few coins
On ice that’ll melt too
When licking at our tongues.
And then it’s into a busy street
To buy disposable things
Plastic time
And plastic love
In the heat
And through pathways
That sound like Fleetwood Mac
And drawn out summer days.
And home now to enjoy
The freeze of tap water
On my bare legs
We drink rose to soften
And numb our limbs
And push and rock our bodies
Into corners
Of our round heaven.
It’s 7 o’ clock
And we’ve forgotten the time
So hurry into clothes
And onto metros
And drag our half-drunk minds
To meet sober ones
Who remind me of older times
Before him
Horrible times.
We skip home
Me speaking nonsense
And him
As always
Catching each word
And cherishing it
And telling me
‘You’re drunk’
As if he isn’t too.
Blood
10/07/2018
I imagine her
finding me
sat on the edge
and she says
‘Oh baby, that’s nothing
you didn’t even make yourself bleed’
This is not a poem
09/07/2018
Hello!
This is not a poem, but just a little note to say I’ve started writing weekly blog posts for a new blog called ‘The Model’.
My first post is up on the site now and you can find it here.
I hope you enjoy xx
Friday
06/07/2018
It wasn’t anything special
I don’t think
Other than him
Here
And me on the side
Drinking in a long dress
That didn’t match
My settings
But he told me ‘you look pretty’
So, I couldn’t take it off
And wouldn’t dare.
Sleep talking
03/07/2018
You slept on tiptoes
and between dreams
and told me
in your sleep
that I was stealing the covers
and I laughed
watching you cradled in cloud
and linen perfume.
You woke before the sun
and between seconds
and told me
as your eyes opened
that I’d stolen the covers
and I said I was sorry
and kissed your smiling greedy eyes
back to sleep.
Counting sheep
29/06/2018
She looked at me weirdly today
And then not at all
And then my mind took me on another adventure
Where her hands were a harness around my neck
To keep my head upright, and my throat closed
Where her hands cut lengths of my hair off in my sleep
And began to weave a blanket to smother me with
Where her hands made fire and burnt my skin so it crackled
To show that I am lesser and I am not so fierce
And it took a while for me to escape my miserable dream
And find peace again in my sub-conscience
But also to rid the memory that her hands will return
To torment me again
Banana
26/06/2018
I am peeling the skin,
thick repulsive dotted yellowed
lumpy boney
bruised
I am peeling the skin,
speckled brown sharp soft
dark edged
putrid
I am peeling the skin,
flesh spits outwards mouldy
squeezes squirts
doughy
I am peeling the skin,
sickening smell saliva decay
pulpy mess
wet
I am peeling the skin,
dig push finger into mush
pull out
sodden
I am peeling the skin,
grime on the floor sudden guilt
wasted taste
iron
I am peeling the skin,
rotting dirty fruit I think
thinking other
him
