when the Spice Girls came on
I knew it was time to leave

hour hand poking midnight
red cups bloated
with spit and tangerine *****

back slaps from strangers
opening and closing their mouths
like goldfishes on morphine

try to find you
through tobacco whispers
***** shots and near-**** Twister

and you're by the front
jacket in hand
we simply nod enough's enough

halfway home you ask
what a zigazig is

think I know you
            knew you
before blue jumpers
football with tennis *****
weeping knees and benches
and reeling off hymns
            now look
at them singing the songs
of some not-quite-teen
mute squares of a life
apparently pristine
likes arriving like flies
            before
it was packed lunches
a place named Azkaban
afternoon kwik cricket
colourless pix
on Bebo
            now it's
a slurry of selfies
head-tilt lips-out
meme media excess
digital mausoleum
you've made your home
            so choose
I'll leave you to it
beeline for the Apple store
record what you can't get back
speak up **** your planet
or run

before dawn
voiceless streets
rain like dropping pins

grits of sleep
tucked in eyes
throb of restless night

treacle hours
cyclone mind
morning crawling in

turn my way
back to you
underneath the sheets

heat flowers
warm smile
rises in the dark

spend a breath
sounds anew
alive and alive

know that I use
that word

in that way
only for you

easy
really

to unpack
the corny lines

leak out a babe
like some throwaway term

rabbit from the hat
oh! know how it's done

not what we're used to
this submergence

into a dream made real
pool of pepper and fizz

sunrise-sky eyes
watermelon-red lips

our version
of four letters

hear it tick
in our blood

the way we
taste our names

so she puts on her scratched Doc Martens with the mud-stricken laces - because that’s what she wants to wear - swish and flicks the stick so the surf of her eyes have raven wings - because that’s how she likes to do it - strikes her lips Beauregarde blue - plonks a fedora atop her tiers of panther-black hair - because it’s her favourite colour - her favourite hat - wriggles on three rings - her grandmother’s, mother’s, and the one from Amsterdam - pins the badge GIRLS DO NOT DRESS FOR BOYS on her fluff-stippled dress - because she’s in the mood to wear it - because it feels comfortable - prods a white trinket in her ear that gushes Bikini **** - because she’s feeling like a rebel - fishes for a fiver for bus fare - knows the driver will silently judge her - knows the thirty-something mother will - knows the raisin-faced cane-in-hand man will as well - knows she doesn’t care - sun javelins in from the windows - feels great looks good her version of girl - later when her friends call they call her Wednesday - her kisses tasting of blueberry pie

Now I lay you down to sleep
An endless archive of emotions
Finally ran dry
Bled For me my own sorrow
After 5 years
Unknown account of words
The only pen I’ve ever used
To write what I’ve felt
You knew me better then I did
Your knowledge leaked
Tears of black
Dancing between lines
I always feared I’d never fill
I lay you to rest today
So I’ll slide in this new cartridge
Yell clear
In the hopes your point is still sharp
Wish changing hearts was as easy

Me: I wonder if I should call
Voices: She won’t answer
Me: Should I text
Voices: She’ll never even open it
Me: Should I Snapchat
Voices: She’ll laugh at your desperation
Me: Did I lose her forever
Voices: As long as there is breath in her
Me: I’ve let her down too many times
Voices: The only reason she forgot you
Me: Still it’s her birthday
Voices: Give Up
Me: Why does it hurt even after so much time
Voices: Not enough time in this life or the next
Me: When does it end
Voices: when the director yells..


Pistol: CUT

I look forward to holding you
I look forward to playing with your hair
I look forward to kissing your neck
Whenever the urge strikes me to
I look forward to
...
Oh wait
I think I just met you

I only wish my first love would have been myself