I’m always trying to outrun the demons.
They take the form of you leaving
And they keep me awake by whispering
About a future without you.

But sometimes I wonder what would happen
If we ever outrun them.

Maybe one day,
I will wake up to the sunshine peeking through
My sheer, white curtains on a saturday morning
And the weight I carry will no longer be
The possibilities of you leaving
But the weight of your arm resting across my body.

Maybe one morning,
I’ll be lucky enough to be the one who awakens
Next to your sleeping face
And I’ll watch as the sun tickles your skin
And your eyelids flutter as you rest.

Maybe I’ll be able to reach out and run my fingers
Along the side of your face and when you
Don’t disappear before my eyes,
I’ll take in a shaking breath of disbelief
That we actually made it.

Maybe.

I awake in the early hours

birds singing

enjoying their feast

my hands exploring your body


Naked flesh on my fingertips

perfectly dreaming

about your touch

ever abandoned


Sleepy slumber dreaming of you

in loving embrace

interrupted dreams

with morning brew


These are the moments

I look forward to

Until the day you search for

my naked body on your fingertips

multifaceted
not fool
not madness
crash water in your morning face
select your character in front of the gaper
harness the void in your recess
and begin the act that voices the business ;
the   trade   that   will   be   this   day ;
the interaction,
the fist and the currency

The rudest awakening,
Alarm clock beckons.
From bliss to reality,
in two nasty seconds.

Early winter mornings,
an unnatural time.
So dark and depressing
is this great British clime.

The air is freezing.
The heating is broken.
It's to this Baltic *******,
that I am awoken.

Skin's hypersensitive
and lights are too bright.
Noises too noisy,
Take me back to the night.

Forced out of bed,
and all just for money.
But as everyone knows,
no money, no honey.