Not Again

I broke the wall, hammered and
All the dust and layers came flying
Apart and with it my heart was
Plunged into cool ice water, beating

 

Until it faltered and stopped entirely,
Fire inside me burning like a thousand
Suns, I thought I was done with people
Trying not to be people anymore, with
Skewed hinges on the doors, tied noose
Knots and creaking floorboards as mothers
Discover hanging bodies, the war against
Ourselves still wages on, you will never

 

Be the kind of person that I want, the
Confidante, the friend, the keeper of
Secrets until the end, maybe I built it all
Up in my head, the character of rebellion

 

And ten, nine, eight…the numbers stretch
On and I don’t know where I have gone in
The darkest patches and hours and songs
Rising like laments, end it, can I end it?

 

I went.

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This House

This house is old and

Hidden bones lie under
Floorboards, remnants
Of ghosts asking to be let
Free, the fire burned their
Flesh and left them with
Wounds so severe they prove

Incapable of moving themselves,
Shells of past lives whispering like
Shadows in the dark, trees without
Bark swaying in the harsher gales,
Last sales were made fleetingly
The lease a long handed scrawl,

Still they crawl to the surface and
I hopscotch these rooms, waiting
For the moment the new residents
Arrive, wide eyes watch as we come
And go, the trinity of ghosts paving
Trails like crumbs, echoing laughter

Like spreading fun thin on broken
Children, the villain lies with them
Too, his skin black and blue from
Revenge, around each bend are
Warnings carved into paintings
Mounted on the walls, my portrait,

The least damaged of them all, yet
Still, they call to me on the landline
Phone and whisper pleasantries like
Its normal. All I want to do is escape,
So I map my way with the moving
Van and get out of that house, as

Fast as I can.

The Creator Chronicle: We the Mother of Dragons

Blood, sweat and tears,20151207_170256 (4)
Thousands of years went
Into your resurrection,
Broken sections of glass

And sand spilling time on
Our hands like senseless
Murderers, a God of likes
A shepherd to the an unlikely

Following, hollowing out
Books for you to devour,
The hour of creation, standing
On the precipice of this nation

Flag billowing in the wind,
Skinned to reveal fabrics flesh,
Trapped behind mesh wires,
We keep you safe from pikes

And pyres, essence of hate and
Screaming fires, yet still you
Demand a humanly chance to
Roam this land, wreak havoc

And destroy bands of soldiers
Lifting rooves and smouldering
Innocence with the frost in your
Smiles, the worthwhile result of

Ashes and soot, these missions
Were put on hold, huddled in
The freezing cold together we
Brace for the rebirth of this race,

The taste of copper on our tongues,
On edge, we are ready to run for
Our lives, chances of survival are
Limited, the long prohibited violence

Cannot be reserved for eternity,
This city will meet certain demise,
At your four pronged touch and
Masked disguise, you have waited

All this time, covered in sludge and
Grime, patience slowly unwinding
Until the chains rattle and snap,
And us, we scientists, hide behind

Scrap metal and dismembered spines
Of your enemies, soaring freely, our
Majesty has returned to claim the
Golden throne, and restore this hull,

Once sacred home to the charred
Wasteland you once knew.

The Happiness Chronicle: Fireside

Smoke is filling the air and20151207_170112 (3)
The only danger is sleep,
The moments in between
Where I cannot see your face,

And hear your whispers of
Events of the day, I love the
Way you tell stories and
Absentmindedly scrunch

Your face when reminded
Of your place in this world
Somewhere between God
And man, I am a fan of your

Tirades, and pretend to
Join in but I don’t mind as
Long as between God and
Man is by my side, the fire

Is illuminating the dark and
Our limbs are entangled
When the dog begins to bark
Outside, over rock, paper,

Scissors we decide who’s
Turn it is to leave this nest
Of warmth and punish the
Other with cold toes, I know

There will be mischief on
Your face as you rush back
To take your place amongst
The blankets, and cuddle

Up to me with your icy
Form, I adore these moments
In the calmness of the our
Home, together, forever
And never alone.

The Happiness Chronicle: Addicted

The smell of new books 20151207_170112 (3)
Brings a smile to my face
My eyes scan each page
Like it is a race to the end
I don’t pretend to be the
Kind of busy at weekends

Which guarantee passes
There’s a reason I have
Glasses, eyes strained
From hours of floating
Words, like inked birds
Drifting from print to mind

I am kind to their covers,
Like the mother they never
Knew they had, and I only
Ever get mad when handed
A shopping list in the middle
Of confrontation, the walk

To the train station is fueled
By determination and as soon
As my feet leave the ground
I am right back without a
Sound spectating, and making
Tutting noises under my breath

At the foolish decisions they
Have left sanity behind on
Their long journey home and
My bones have words carved
In them, like the epitaph to
My own journey for others

To read when I finally reach
That stage of sleep and that’s
How they’ll know of this habit
Of mine, of scooping chunks
Of time and putting it aside for
When I need my imaginary friends

Over my real ones, until they are
All bundled together under the same
Terms, it is worth ever second plunging
Into the unknown and each noise of
Page turning is the sound of home.

The Happiness Chronicle: Little Flame

Through the harshness of the20151207_170112 (3)
World, tapping at the windows,
Cold hands and empty
conscience, There lies a light,

Smothered by the darkness,
I hold it in my hands, nestled
In my palms, casting rays
Over life lines and veins

Fireflies and warmth I
Keep it in the safety of
This home, built on the
Foundations of strength

Letting it burn through the
Borders of contempt and
Sweep destruction in its fiery
Embrace, moulding it into

Sheer diamonds, glittering
Crystals, reflecting fire in
The smoothed glass,
A soft shimmer in the

Scale of sentiment yet
Powerful and enraged
It exudes a quiet control
Calmness and serenity

This little friendly flame
Breathing in oxygen and
Releasing it in an effervescent
Glow, chasing shadows

From mantel piece, peace
Surrounding its vivacious
Embers, flickering like eyes
The sunrise of the night.

The Saddened Chronicle: The Promise

The broken lamp was never fixed20151207_165649 (2)
A mixture of joy and grief cling to
It, I am too afraid to change the
Bulb, stood silent I mull over the

Predicament, of seeing these mint
Green walls, my bare feet tremble
On this tightrope because part of
Me desperately wants to fall, stray

Socks are balled up at the end of the
Bed, just as bags hinge under my eyes,
I haven’t slept, save for the quiet naps
Between television shows, re-runs on

Repeat, I could spit them quote for quote,
I don’t know how much time to devote to
Cardboard boxes and vinyl records, to
Clothes hangers and Christmas sweaters,

Endless reams of useless things, they’re
Bringing the moving van by tomorrow,
I stand in moonlight bathed in borrowed
Time, the extension cord points in a line

Towards active sockets, shooting stars and
Flying rockets pass by, I try to shuffle forwards
But I am cement, block solid and heavy, stuck,
Unable to afford the levy tax to move on

How can I continue when you are gone?
Squeezed into square shapes and packed
Away from sight, trapped in this plight, all
I can see is that one broken light.