Tag Archives: sadness

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.

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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?

 

 

 

 

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.

Apogee

You lie not here, yet here- wired up, the beeps
viridian tracings flowing through your veins.
Our love seeps through, you later tell us. Seeps
through, while we watch you sleep. We call your name.
You say you heard us, but you did not care
to take your leave quite yet. You felt this world
you could forsake, for you were happy there.
I walk Venetian lanes and hear the swirl
of lapping water lipping over piers
of umber wood. The amber sun held deep
within the ancient crumbling ochre years,
rose-madder shadows flecked with gold. I weep
for if I take my leave just here I’ll be
so near to reaching life’s sweet apogee.

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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