****** out arms,
like the conductor of a grandiose majestic orchestra,
fingers sooted,
as if lisps of coal had swept into the cracks of a smile,
and what belies the truth,
O sonnet of beloved decibels,
do cry and masticate from the heavens above,
O roar me with your shaking lungs,
crescent moons of red blood - eyes but a shimmer,

do corral your final motion,
blackest pledge for harrowed heroine,
the soul lives on.

he
didn't like the way she had methodically seduced him

– as if he were simply a puzzle
to mechanically solve and destroy
like clockwork
tick tock tick tock
and now you use your tongue
to become the catalyst of his undoing -

then shoved him,
harshly
(the ice cold feel
of frozen wall
still hung
in phantom touches
against his bridged back)
kissed him,
roved his mouth,
placed her tongue in his lips,
under his tongue,
on his cheek,
under his skin,
under his flesh,
under his bones,
in his bones,
in his heart,
in his brain,
can't get rid of her,
and marked him.

He didn't like the feeling of being prey,
of preyness

A monster
lies in wait
shrouded in dark
festooned in
onyx curls
of brilliant
disguise

its teeth
are as long
as my arms
and I wonder
how long
it has hidden
in my veins
like poison
its nails
brushing against
the bed
of my own

I dare not blink
not sleep
don't move
I am insensate
and frozen
this pitiful
state
has only just
begun
but it feels
as if I have
layed here
for eternity

the monster
never leaves
although
sometimes
it sleeps
and I taste
the infuriating tease
of lush reprieve

it always
comes back
no matter
how far
I shove
it down.

Maybe there is a reason for that.

We wish we were younger -
when every flaking drift of sleet was magic
and the crinkles around father's brow
was a historic moment
laughter was common place
exploration seeped into the skin
and our own wonder lay exotic yet forgotten

We wish we were older-
so that the wisdom we yearn has already arrived
so that we open our eyes and see
echoes of the kaleidoscope of life we always wish to see

so that meaning is more than stripes on a dashboard
and we look back and smile winsome and fresh
with yellow tinted teas and teeth
eyes twinkling with ancient promise

if we're older we made it,
and there is temptation in such security,
to wish away one's precious moments

We wish the clocks would tick back-
so that time was more forgiving
quiet and prehistoric
with large looming dinosaur trees caressing our flesh and sights
we could breathe once in a while
our eyes may flicker away from the day and into the sky
and at night we would lay beneath a blanket of boundless wonder

back then,
no one knew what lay in the stars,
so angels existed in more than dreams and
wishes

We wish for the world to end-
the fires raging in our hearts
catching alight at every stray ember
from the black choked plumes of smoke,

we want the burn
the pain
we want to feel it
to live
and breathe it
until
our lungs collapse

we would huddle like slick pelted penguins
a barricade of togetherness
the furies of nature fighting back would unite us
and some long for the seductress of community
to hold us and embrace us like our tech-enslaved mothers never did

We wish for the years to pause, then fold in on themselves-
and we would awaken
from stasis
with wild brains and gaping mouths
lips forever parted in childhood wonder
at the indescribable nature of the future

there is always hope in the future,
for the future is everything
we seek
but never eventuate

we wish,
we surrender,
we pledge our souls to the almighty cause,
never once pausing,
in Our time
to think that
if we let it

this could be paradise.

Out, out, out,
so wide and overt,
so overflowing and grand,
when the belly button pops,
open like a cork,
spilling juices and fresh bubbles,
we let out crooked smiles grace
the night.

Out, out, out,
with windows handing agape,
out eyes closed,
but there are slits,
cracks in the walls,
crevasses and tunnels,
secret fortunes to be broken,
so that the wolves,
hidden and growling,
in the walls,
can shake their sodden pelts,
and poke wet noses into the light,
we watch,
from our stone beds,
our eyes narrowed hallways
of spies and
clandestine destiny.

Out, out, out,
the door is ajar,
one push,
and the world will lament,
and cease,
out, into the wildness,
there is wilderness in these rooms,
hallowed halls conceal jungle,
long looming forests,
the dark undergrowth that
hides decrepit creatures in shadow,
only eyes glinting,
there is a sublime here,
a mottled verse,
only those with their hearts out,
can be lent the care of others,
and see the secret beings hidden in the cracks.

I am a vampire under the full moon,
Live by day,
Cursed by night,
Trapped in a never ending cycle of thought and discord.

My wings spread darkly over open plains,
Casting shadows and whispered ruffles of black feathers,
Bleeding profusely in the morning sun,
Making my spine arch and wince against the heat.

I am a monster,
I know that now,
Forever trapped in the body of a girl,
And haunted of deeds I have not committed.

I ebb and flow with the tides,
Changing soul as they wash in and curl out,
Watching the darkened oceans rise to light with morning,
And seeing morning fail to the bitterness of nighttime.

Come dawn I smile and shine like the sun,
Hug friends as if we were lovers,
Make jokes as if I held humour,
Hold hands as if mine weren't claws.

By dusk the change sets in,
Sinking bones out of place in my skin,
Reflecting battled moonlight off my crimson gaze,
Pulling tears of blood from my bitten lips.

I walk in and out of shadows,
Basking in the treacherous darkness that completes me,
Holding my own bleeding heart in my hand,
And crying as if I had a right to.

At night I am not a girl,
No, when alone and surrounded I am gone,
Off with the breeze,
And my soul is taken by a ghoul of definite cruelty.

Thoughts bleed into my skull,
Drip dangerously down until I am drowning,
Pulling old rhymes and repeated phrases,
Until even the monster is crying inside me.

I hold out a shaking hand,
Lift it up above the tree-line,
Stretching limbs as if they were rubber,
And waiting,
Always waiting,
To see if someone could pull me up.

Monster or not.

me and you,
we go together like cherries and cream,
we're too sweet,
my teeth ache,
and the pip sticks in the back of your throat.

me and you,
its always in that order,
me then you,
and some days I regret it,
that our thoughts don't swirl together in a rainbow of unison,
but we're different people,
and I sometimes matter.

me and you,
I think long ago,
we might have been real,
but then,
the world woke up,
and righted itself.

me and you,
were just a bad dream,
and I've never been good,
at remembering.

the weaver never asks himself,
why the webs are so frail.

the songstress will always sing,
except if the world doesn't listen.

A milky veil trickles across your window,
it has the same consistency as cloud,
and as fingers run from edge to edge,
you sigh, as if pleasured, by this translucent skin.

Your body is as still as stone,
neither lungs lifts its arms to heave,
rather you are stagnant, and dead,
like dust.

The room is round,
you wonder if rolling along the walls is,
a bit not great,
but still descend down the ***** of portrait to portrait.

There is no depth, nor charity,
within or outside this room,
but somewhere, in the walls,
you once thought you heard a voice.

It was silky, and thin,
like the air swallowed at the peak of a cliff,
huffed in and out like last breaths,
stale like last meals, except it was perfect.

This hollow chant does not pass,
it hedges on the oval of your palm,
and as you splash your face with
milky flesh, the life returns.

One wise merchant:
once tried to sell you a concept.

There you were,
lounging on the street,
like any half decent loiterer,
when this haphazardly placed shawl,
bumped you to a wall.

Tattoos fluttered along their brow,
their mouth shimmied from one thought to the next,
and this,
gypsy of a fool,
was trying to sell
the thought
that you would die.

Knife to throat,
fist to rib,
eye to eye,
it was a convincing proposition,

but ultimately,
only a salesman's pitch.

Words creep up
my arms like
many knives
aiming for the
blue railway tracks
of my
veins
they always
pump too loud
in my ears
I can't focus
on the
vitriol
thoughts in
my head
which demand
so much
that I
cannot give

I scream for
mercy that
I
do not
deserve

for the shadowed
woman
on the wall
to lay down
her gun
and hold me
so our
hearts sync
and the
world doesn't
hurt so
badly
anymore

I pray for
the
demons in
my skull
and chest
to
quit
their
racket
and let me
sleep

perhaps

eternal
sleep would
be
the
answer
but I am
competitive
and I would
hate
to let
them win

I ice my
feet
so when
I am
running
on the
thin ice
that holds me
like
chicken wire
fences and
tight skirt netting
so I can
slide through
the candlelight
and
emerge
a glorious
beast in the
darkness of
the nightmares

I look to
the
window
on my
left

hands
banging
incessantly
on the pane
I feel the pane
of bruised
fingers
and gums
as I
grit my
teeth and cage
the
screams that
long to
escape
I hold a
prisoner
in my
chest
that dances
like the
stomping of those
elephants
the beating
of my
breathing
living
consuming
heart
it pulls me
under

I let
it take me
down

until the
city lights are
reflected
in the
darkened
swampland

that is the

body of my

body of my

lake and
I swim
deep past
the
other
corpses
to the
sunken ships
and
skeletons with
hollowed eyes

I can
only stare
as my
life flashes
in sparks
of engine
ignites

of stars
flickering
twinkling
in and
out of
existence like
the sparkle
on the teardrop
from my
lover's
starburst
eyes

I close my eyes and waterfalls crash upon my shoulders,
Building the pressures of those burning buildings,
The screams within from the unlucky souls,
Fiddling twisted tales into acerbic tunes of their fates,
Gluing my hand to the rudder of that crashing ship,
The sun burns in blame, branding my body ablaze with the words,
The red stain of blood upon my bleached skin, until I burn with them,
My mind catches alight, singing mournful songs of fallen grace,
Eyes pierce my flesh like guilty knives, twisting wounds that are yet to be made,
I can only lie there while the jury makes their call,
Hands out, arms straight, shoulders curved, nails shoved clean through,
I lie for crucifixion willingly, holding my naked body to the accusing stares,
Let them tear my to shreds, my love, for only then will I be baptised,
Ants make nests in the tunnels of my ears, digging deep into the toxic soil of my mind,
I fear for their lives as they try to crawl out from the darkness,
I fear for the blackness pooling in my gut like subtle mercury, moonlight translated to the waist,
Burst, it calls out, burst until your flesh eats itself and all is left is dust and footsteps,
Let the leeching breath that curses you out, and the new day in,
Let them in, my love, let them in so that you may leave.

I close my eyes and sunsets blaze behind me, forever in a cycle of night and day,
The night captures the falling sun as it falls, leaking out black grappling hooks to pull it in,
I close my eyes as the explosion rings bells in my ears, disrupting the ant colonies,
I walk away, letting things drift out of my own skin until I am sleeping, body marked by the blame,'
Howls paint the hillside grey with indecision, howls of grief, howls of pain,
We all howl for the moon to rise and day to let us rest,
We all wait for tomorrow to take us into its arms, father holding us again like a babe,
Rockfalls roll down the cliff, negligent and searching with wide eyes for a place to land,
Some blame the rocks for falling and landing where they weren't fated to,
Others blame the footsteps from the girl above, who caused the rocks to fall.

my heart likes your lips
and my toes curl like your hair
so of course its love.

“delusions of grandeur”

the boy
in the silk suit
black slick skin
a penguin's belt

he is nameless
or unrecognised
or in one universe
he is both
he is neither

the sun
is cut into shards
they spike
a slit throats
but we love the sun
even if it is cancerous

do not blame the sun
it doesn't mean to
we need the sun
it is up to you to protect yourself

the boy
buttoned up
to the neck
past the shoulders
down into the ground
up to the ceiling

he is more buttons than boy

he stands right
dead centre
in the circle of
sunlight
as if he were a deity

the boy feels
the air in
tight cuffs
around his wrists

he is free now

Silence pounded thick and humid upon his skin,
His pores leaked heavy sweat as he panted with the consuming dread,
It screeched docile and corrosive lyrics in his head,
The level and taunting thump of those phantom memories,
Sweeping gentle and iced fingers across his burning throat.

Black, his eyes closed and he was plummeted into the dark,
It surrounded him on all sides, shouting melodies upon his closed lips,
Sweaty hands grabbed at his shirt and tried to pull him under,
The crocodile in the corner of the pond leapt out at him like a frog,
All green scales and hungry eyes, beckoning him to the water.

Denial burned his eyes black until he was blind and crying like a newborn,
Hoarse and broken sobs left his mouth like cries for help,
He tore at his hair as truths and twisted fates begged him closer to the edge,
Childish fingers and stubbed nails scratching at his ankles, leaving goosebumps like warning notes,
Bumbling officers of protection fled the crime scene of his shattered psyche.

It was porcelain, fake, too thin and too fragile,
His crystal city was crashing down with the force of an earthquake,
Lives cracked in two like that broken heart chocolate wreath that hung on his door three months early,
Blue tinted lips let out a breathy sigh of defeat as his eyes bled closed,
He gazed upon the rising sun like it was his enemy.

Lies.

'funny of you to come and watch me'

she asks
legs folded
prim and
primed
and
proper
eyelashes like
windswept shades
shadows of
claws
against the
soft fabric
of her
eyes

'maybe it was fated we meet here'

it is
her home
afterall
what luck
they would
both meet
in her
home

'its not
breaking in
when you
left the
door open'

she is not
impressed
and I
can relate
to the
subtle
curl
of her
rogue lips
like she
just tasted
ash
and it
reminded her
of the
empty
fireplace.

'its rude
to knock'

'I have
a bell
for a
reason'

'I was busy
before you
came.'

its a lie
clear as day
cut as fine
as bread
rough and
hacked
like
flesh
she lifts a
nail
letting it
swish
like evening
gowns
and
fluttered
mascara

'its rude
to knock'

she said

and the room
emptied.

beauty,
it may seem an unworthy word,
aesthetically purposeless,
only for romantics,
only for the guileless,
the naive,
but one forgets,
that to see is to appreciate beauty,
and only the blind,
let their rose red lens,
fade to black.

Hands linked in broken chains of blinding freedom,
She could hardly speak it was so beautiful,
So open and calm, like the break of dawn only just bleeding orange over the hills,
Animals waking from their slumber, men waking next to their wives with starlight in their eyes.

Love, a cure and illness so contradictory and poisonous,
Addictive in the most beautiful and traitorous way,
It was fate to **** for love, to die, to live, to remember,
Such harsh truths written and remembered,
And she was at the verge of it all.

She stood, head tilted back to the sky, catching reflected beauty of clouds on her neck,
Feet dangling over the rickety and dangerous edge of a water fall,
Steam rising in mighty waves, splashing water against her naked face,
Arms held out in triumph and freedom,
The scars of old rope burns healed into white marks of forgotten history.

Children cried at the burning glory of it,
The peace that had entrenched into their hearts and minds like magic,
A pulsing energy that scoped the land away from the harsh reality of war and violence,
They could remember the bitter taste of hunger on their tongues,
Parched mouths and brown beaten sunned backs, red from the scorched heat.

It was over, the crops were sprung up a new,
Rain cleaning away rivers of blood,
Dirt smouldering from explosions and ash sunken fires,
Freedom was ***** and glorious, bright like the deadly majesty of the sun,
Light pooling over the corpses like angelic offerings.

War was gone, and peace had pushed through the roughened land,
It was a bitter but desired coo in their chests,
To remember those that were gone, but to live on in harmony for those that remained,
Peace was not won with flowers and songs,
But with bloodshed,
They were the lucky ones to look upon the gruesome aftermath with hope.

Her heart played like a lyric,
A single note and tone,
Thumping against her chest in torturous musicality,
Twisting around syllables and meanings,
Cooing to injured birds and children like mothers,
Thrumming in time with the strings.

It was brittle and smooth,
Still and moving,
Felt hot and heavy in her hands,
Brought tears to her eyes,
That burnt down her cheeks hotly,
...And made her feel once again.

Love,
What an ominous and infinite word,
Her heart played like a lyric,
And that lyric was from a love song,
Curled in angelic symphony,
And always waiting for the other chord to hit,
Like destiny.

She danced to her own soothing sound,
Humming madly to nothingness as if she were born to,
And held on to sound,
As if she were back in her mother's womb,
Happy then like she was there,
To hear the same inherited soothing note.

Her heart was a thief,
Pulled words from her soul without precedence or apology,
Trailed subtle blissful fingertips down her sculpted and aching jaw,
As she sung for hours,
To please her hungry heart,
Which she loved with heartfelt narcissism...

But never could quench the thirst for more.

Smelt like scented candles,
Tilted her world on its axis,
And trailed soft fingers down her spine,
Paralleled fingerprints on her hips,
Drawing a sharp intake of breath.

Just friends.

Sure.

Eyes traced over aged lines,
Skimming eyebrows like dates,
Mesmerised by the glory of that boring iris,
Brown eyes,
Chocolate brown,
Dark and brooding,
Curled in expansive beauty.

Sometimes he mentioned it,
How she stared to long,
If she needed a picture,
If she understood they were friends,
And her heartbeat pulsed guiltily in her wrist,
Writhing in agonised worship of his features.

He wasn't pretty like a model,
He wasn't even very average looking,
Dotted with scars,
An oval face,
Nose pricked to obscenity.

God she loved him,
Like the moon loved the sun,
Always keeping her difference,
Gazing from afar,
Breath pooling in hot puffs over his ears,
Gorgeous sculpted ears.

Stubble traced his chin,
Eyelashes were thin and sparse,
Skin rough and textured,
Like a farmer,
Although she knew he had never worked a day in his life.

Ugly,
Oh so ugly,
But so delectable,
So achingly entrancing,
Pulling her eyes away from words and numbers,
Over vast mounds of skin to his,
Unbreakable expression.

He never smiled,
Maybe that was for the best,
She'd probably faint...
He was a deadly man,
And all deadly men had dazzling smiles.