Tag Archives: Human relationships

Broken

woodblock trees stamp black cross citrus sky,

guard the crest, stand firm against marauders,

seasons march on forwards laying waste the years,

talcum dusted lunar lands, weathered feldspar fields,

hoar-crust roads glint old-foolsgold, xanthene tears.

 

driving to the station, lemon dawnlight breaking,

I’m unaware of just how far your destination’s

taking you. our snowy owl sits knowing, watching

from his sign, it must have been an omen,

should I have turned the music low and spoken?

 

we talked last night, it’s not been long, you said,

twelve weeks four days six hours ten minutes

and still counting, seven million bloody beats

of waiting, longing, missing twinning rhythm,

no wonder I feel weary, beaten, broken.

Victim

you…

yeah you.

which one of us?

does it matter?

now we’re gone

we’re all the same?

uhuh.

thanks.

wish I knew

what it was all about.

you and me too.

wish I knew now

what I thought I knew

then.

when?

forever.

for an intelligent person

you’re not actually

that clever.

wish I’d been proved

wrong.

wish I’d not been proved

right

so much poured into

so little.

huh?

so much pain

for so little gain.

you’ve lost me now.

such a bloody waste

of so much energy.

sorry.

I’m still angry

yeah I see.

it’s all so

arbitrary.

don’t you think

you were chosen?

sorry?

our perfect little victim?

 

 

 

 

New

Returning to air rarefied,

refined, lucid prism arc

turning dark hill-top trees

into lino-cut likenesses,

my adventure just over or

maybe just begun, who knows?

I am an incompetent judge.

 

This smitten mortal,

swift with tender sweetmeats

treasures and morsels stuffed

with lust and tenderness

unnerves me. I mistrust his

cloying riches, more used

to thriftier, simpler fare.

 

Sister One wisely suggests

I need to grow accustomed

slowly, ‘Get used to it girl,

it doesn’t always have to be

Rock n Roll’ she says. I laugh

for that is what I seem to require,

although I don’t know why.

 

Sister Two listens and says

‘you deserve to be cherished.’

I laugh again, wanting to agree,

modesty curbing my hubris.

To believe it would demand

such faith in one mere mortal.

Impossible.

 

 

 

 

I Hear Your Call


The term. Oesophageal Varices.

Blood flows, it fills your lungs and oozes,

blacklashed bruises crimson tears closed-eyes

hemmed in by black-gut twist. I hear your call.

It’s time to take your leave, death’s wanton whore

demands the living line to still, to view

her neon underscore, the beep your

overture, your wordless note. I hear your call.

You leave me feathers in your silent wake,

the first I found stuck to my sole, and knew

you’d come to me in dreams, and leave an ache,

my Ariel, and still, I hear your call.

Somehow love missed you, held you in it’s thrall,

and how it missed… yet still, I hear your call.

Vellum Wound

A diary,

you opened me,

pristine and blank,

left your ink

indelibly engrained

upon my leaves.

 

Weaved philtres

through my reams,

I reeled, felt

true blue bruise,

the tattooed weal,

my vellum wound.

 

Presumed us safe

yet now I see you kept

your brittle carapace

in place,

self-protecting,

unlike me, inept.

 

I wept, felt duped

for your integrity

proved dubious,

hoped foolishly,

you would be my master,

I your maid.

 

Dismayed, my

brave servility

self sacrificed,

I closed myself,

threw away the key

before your cock crow’d thrice.

 

 

My Weakness

You wouldn’t believe

how many times I’ve tried to

delete you… and failed.

Stalwart

Merging out from leafy tunnel-dark

to low-slung sun and monster shadowlands

in silhouette a stalwart bullock stands.

His brazen bulk on pale-grey road as stark

and black as jet on silver sands. He blocks

me, obstinate. I watch his male display;

a gauntlet thrown, a challenge to a fray,

he snorts his sweet hot silage fog, and mocks.

Desire to stroke his tousled forelock aches

in me. I reach. I touch. Meet mirror eyes

and see myself so small in giant skies.

Those waxy curls, a texture that awakes

a memory. My fingers. Your black hair.

So long ago, yet still, I linger there.

 

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