Into a world we've seen before,
Our shallow world remains
Slipping on razors
Clean on the inside
A blender filled with bleach.

My Louise,
Chaos when you're near,
Madness when you're far.
Never too far away from me.
My Louise.

Triangle praise
clappy happy shapes.
Tall librarian,  robes slipping underneath his own worth.
pennies to donate, salaried sanctity.
Precious metal prayer.
hatred of man, verse cursed, line lynched.
And thus begins todays mass sin.
turn to page three hundred and hatred forth.

Bouncing on the sofa,
His tired eyes sing a song
He bounces and speaks.
Comforting strange man.

Press forward!
Going nowhere.
Fire!
On a civilian standoff.
Count the dead,
10, 9, 8
0 casualty’s sir.
Great maths, soldier.

The anxiety and excitement is palpable,
Gnawing at the mind, claw finger probing.
Who cares which entrance just shove in!

'please take a seat and wait sir, your journey will begin soon'.
Relax and take in the scenery as light comes alive.
Is the expectation.
The reality is crushing and humiliating.
Dreams shredded. Hopes shattered.
The plane did not leave the run way and disintegrated into a heap of disappointment.

Time to book a different flight.

Say goodbye.
See the lonely way out
Disappear.
I am your never
Your ever
Your cries
I'm your whenever,
Your quiet
Your byes
I'm your wherever
Your eternal
Good night.

Glass half empty,
because I drank the other half.
Drinking emptiness to fill empty.

The mood is blue,
The day is blue,
The red has taken over.
The red is clean,
Close and pure.
The red washing at the blue.
The blue is true,
The red cuts through,
This purple mess is mine.
Its royal blue, as red bleeds through,
My blue man walks on by.

She sought her ciggies
In her dressing gown of glory
She lit up
And said
'you alright?'

Time running away
In a slow motion quagmire,
Rotting away
In an addiction wasteland.
Look in the mirror
Wrists to the sky
He looks back
On your lips
Only salt.

I’m saved.
Sad I meant.
What does it matter it’s done now.
How done though?
Spillage?
Fallout?
Nah, they’ve ****** off to pudding.
And it’s not me so happy days.
Fucksake, turns out they hate apple pie.

The ****,
Becomes a flower,
Returns to soil,
And turns to stone.

Silence boy
Silly boy
Try it again boy.
Cut it boy
Taint it boy
Let it all flow boy.
Daft boy
Silent boy
Swinging with tinsel boy.

I dance in the garden with the newly insane,
Singing my own name
I slice up the surgeons that cleave into my brain
Laughing as the breath leaves my veins.

When I get home,
Cloaked in all my anger from my work
My wee dogs paws, brush it all away.
All I have; is you, your wee paws tacking on the floor.

Bricks
Blood
Mortar
******.

Living rooms,
Dining rooms,
Welcome hands.

Hateful glares,
Sneering smiles,
Open arms.

Blood of my blood
Sins of my sins
Wrists are everything you need.
Cutting board cutting stains
Hold them out and let them renew
The world is so alive
For a zombie.

Busting a move
On my sofa dancefloor.
Just me in my room
My hand jive
My breakdance
My cushions
My home.
Me and my songs.
My cigarettes and my wine.
My good time.
And no-one else around.

An adult discussion.
A slave to his name, as long as he's happy.
An axe to the face. A wound he can warm in.
A slash to the heart. A cave he can scheme in.
An ******* he can dine in.
A feast for his ego.
No raised words.
No arguments.
He can't unfuck me.
An adult discussion.

Muffled. Sated. Play.
Titivating the field with wine.
Game changing moments,
Clouded in a red haze.

The poison needle hits the turntable and spin's me round again.

Objectifying paranormalising
Scaring the feelings away.

Tell me what the instruments say
Tell me what the probes feel.

Let's go round again.
It will always be there the second time.
Let's make rounds again,
One more time.

When you wake up in the pits
And you remember, life is ****
It's a ****** ditty do-dah time for you.

And when you clamber out the pit,
And you really smell that ****
It's a ****** ditty do-dah time for you.

Looking back down at the pit
Thinking down there was the ****
It's always a ****** ditty do-dah time for you.

Now when I think of
My mother dear
That she can be
So full of cheer
Though she knows
Her life ends near
That she can be so
Full of cheer.
She coughs her lung's up
A mucal smear
She ***** her **** out
The end is near
But all my my mother knows
This simple thing
She lives her life
With all she holds dear.

Hungry are the hands that claw out the brain,
In a fit of absent envy for the thrill of yesterday,
Slickened in blood and wine as it congeals around the mouth,
It pours into the toilet, a buffet consumed, destroyed.

Hands around your throat
Side by side
Watching the sun go down

So. I look like a massive *******.
When all is do is self deprived nonessential cuntish behaviour.
Those outside can see with clarity.
What's happening to me.
But on the inside those outdoor eyes are always so unfriendly and hostile and, just, well, ******* nosey.

I crawl to bed , a silent dream to a melodies' prayer,
off I whisper, my begging, to clouds.
and you know the sound of sin.
happy he is, the fruitful snake,
the life that terminates at a humans gaze.
soundless sarin. gaseous respiration
out of necessity at the manufactured devil as he smiles
his job is complete
he always gets his mark,
if you believe.
its always hands that strangle the throat.

My best friend moved in with me today.
His life fell apart,
Shattered to nothing,
And so now, he lives here
With me.

I should be happy.

Crying into the bath
It soaks its sponge.
The pink lather writhes in its fingers.

Bleeding from the wrists
It dabs tentatively.
The sponge adds red to pink

It soaks the sponge again,
In the vat of redder bubbles.
The copper scent claws up its nose.

Its arms loose grip
Of the cleansing sponge
Its mind fades red to black.

Crushing reality.
Crashing around.
Lightning blinds the sky.

Trivial toad
In your pond.
Lily pad layabout.
Ignorance it would seem is indeed bliss.

Bonfire shower,
Scrub the life away,
Tap severed,
Burning bridges light my way.

Chicken in the oven.
Playing chicken with the oven.
Gaslighting the oven.

Not really. Dinners in the oven
Cooking in the oven.
Tasty in the oven.

Back and forth in front of the mirror
To and fro
Clown and civies
Back and forth.
Back and ******* forth.

The sea drinks at the shore,
Moon in hand, the waves dance.
A slow silent samba.
Lazily. Shyly stealing sips.
Black and endless.
Timidly swallowing the world whole.

The wedding bells struck
As lady Veronica marched down the aisle.
Her gay boyfriend stood still in his shoes.

'my love?' He asked tentatively.
'you're doing just fine' she smiled.

She laid her hand on his chest.
Togetherness in all.

'my love.'  he replied.


Veronica drew up her dress as if a sword.

'We are to be wedded priest. Make it happen'.

Is it me?
Or do you hide behind that white nose smile?
I'll never know.
You'd never say.
All I know is,
It's a white day. A good day.
For you and for me.

Profile a man.
What do you see?
Murderer? Cleaner?
Smoker?
Cleaner smoker.
Busybody supervisors.
'he does hoover with extreme vigor'.
'but did you hear about the murders?'

Falsetto feelers,
The audience is deaf.
Crescendo seekers,
Tone ******* deaf.

Mind your own business,
Screams out the crowd,
The deafness is deafening.
The artist now bows.

Straps up.
Face on
Lets have it

I know you,
You know me.
Who knows who?
Knows me and thee?

You know them,
Do they know us?
How do we know?
What they say about us?

I know they say
They know us well.
Do they really know?
The lies I can tell?

Calling from our home,
Ghosts are spooking over,
Hands holding the cold.
Our exorcist gazebo.

Strawberries and cream,
Mouth is chewing toenails.
Bucket full of smoke.
Smoke alarms enabled.

Disaster will unfold,
Loneliness without me.
Calling you from home,
Calling home without me.

I hate everything.
It hates me to.
Forlorn hope for?
Nothing returned.
I hate the public.
Their children aswell.
I hate the bus stops.
The filth passing by.
I hate it all.
Hatred haywired.
Call me a cyborg.
But truth hurts aswell.

Take me to paradise
Simple paradise.
Wholesome paradise.
Lonely paradise.

I'm helping you. You're helping me
It's a crackhead two way *******.
Scratching out the pit we loom over.
How deep down does the Satan pit go?
As deep as our retribution arc unravels.
See you on the other side fellow acolyte.
Studiously staring into the abyss.

Stupor putrefies.
Knees wobble and hands prostrate.
Spirit slows its breathing.
Beholden to the madness
Laity massed around.
Sip. Sip. Drip. Drip.
Pray the sun doesn't rise tomorrow.

The finger seeps from the clouds,
caressing the corners of his mind.
His eyes widen at the horror.
Pulse fast, hands cold.
Decision final.
Go again.

A friend once said to me,
I'm worried sugar,
I'm worried what we've become.
'I'm worried how much you're doing, sugar'
The sugar soon solves his woes.

Ready the horses,
Wax clean the saddle.
I'm riding again.
To battle, to the end.

Curled wrists
Hung spine
Garroted feet
Twisted hands.