what's the matter

Grab hold of my hand,

we'll wait out the wind,

we'll drown lest we swim.

break bread with the enemy,

cross swords with a friend,

decisions, good or bad,

have uncertain ends.

rip

Take off the bandage,

watch as the mixed blessings flood forth.

you're covered in old blood,

drowned out the new dawn, with old love

so much stronger than a head held high,

so much stronger than your good sense.

Bittersweet Therapy

You, the last person I spoke to before I went to sleep,

the first thing I thought about when I woke up.

You, the person I wanted to share all of my news with,

my shelter, my consoler my trusted council.

But, You, tore pieces from me, and left, and I remained...

a tattered mess, a sightless sight of unrest.

a pile of cotton, a mangled toy, you left...

but you insisted you hadn't.

and in the end I suppose I left,

I suppose I ripped out my own useless appendix,

shredded it for bedding and span my wheel.

The truth is, I think you know the truth,

that an omission is a lie,

so you said goodbye.

over and over

All wrapped up in warm colours,

grinning from ear to ear and yet...

there is a taint, a shiver to delay,

a passing thought, some small regret.

Something wants to wring the neck,

of every syllable that expresses love,

my heart is unduly haunted by the wreck,

I sail, headfirst into joy, a rocky cove.

Outstretched arms and nervous hands,

so much hope, love, confusion,

I look at you, but all I see,

an echo, a refrain.

Tonight it ends

So long to the hungry and the wretched,

so long to the long and listless nights,

so long to the edifice of happiness,

so carefully conveyed,

such bittersweet inanity purveyed.

For too long I have been

at fault for my own sadness,

languishing, affecting carelessness.

Tonight it ends,

so long to the hungry and the wretched,

so quick to call himself a martyr.

Balloon

Tie balloons around my neck,

I want to hang high above this,

laughing at the insignificance of all my land lying problems,

all these home spun inadequacies, defunct by the last gasp of weightlessness,

this would be a good death.

I want to melt the wax rind that is suffocating me,

winter melting away in brilliant sunlight,

free fall like Icarus, landing in a field or an ocean,

sublime pain, my body will fracture

as I am lost in true rapture.

awake

The smell of wood, the taste of coffee,

the wrench out of my bed in the morning

still ringing in my ears.

In floods the new day

through the gap around a door,

too small for its frame,

hello brain, hello head ache, hello morning.

Out are the dreams

of a world so perfect, yet unintelligible,

slowly as the blur comes into focus

and I wipe the sleep from my eyes,

there is day, there is work,

there is a new piece

to the same puzzle

that has puzzled me for years.