Substance.

Your storm wasn't in a teacup,

I kept it inside of me. 

Even now, I always have the hiccups.

I took three pills to help me sleep but

I woke with fractured bones.

Next time I'll know to take four.

On the sunnniest days I lay naked
beneath a window, covered in sunlight from head to toe.
It feels like I'm outside when I'm really inside.

Deliquency.

In the depths of ignorance and starvation,
I took to sitting in the street with a sign saying:
"Will cure broken hearts for food."

Winter's end.

While we were tangled for warmth
I drew your picture.



I hope you drew mine

Bent, not broken.

The undeniable truth, that I failed, isn't what I suffer through at night.

My dreams are tortured by the moments that I kept my smart mouth shut.

I allowed my spine to curve beneath the weight of silence, 

unspoken objections,

I let these seconds pass by unscathed when I should have been fighting every single one. 

There was no glass of cold water to wake me up.

When nothing is left,
nothing touchable, nothing reachable, nothing notable
there is nothing to keep the physical from becoming liquid.
The inability to hold onto myself is the twisting knife I feel relentlessly.

I'm so exhausted by it now.
Trying to rebuild a person is an ocean, trying to survive as a shell of one is the universe.

I'm not sure there will ever be a worthwhile lesson learnt, there aren't any mistakes made that won't be repeated.
I like to look behind and underline how much I have changed,
but I still can't stomach the thought of touch, nervous that it will reshape me once again.

I thought I hadn't been this person before.
Perhaps I have.

Drunk.

Jane,

she said.

I don't want to waste myself on unrequited love.

Gold rings,

bright with rubies.

I kept all those important promises.

Yours Faithfully,
his name.

I saw the light on from down in the street.

Each,
I thought.

The black dog followed me home again today.

One Letter(No Apology)

No.

No more.

I'm filled now, with more sorry's than I could ever use. I think that may be enough.

It was just such a lovely gesture, on your behalf, to send me such scripted letters

and confess through ink and paper,

black and white,

something that was so grey.

It was a beautiful touch, I thought, to place the undying love you claimed to have,

onto the same pages

you named my replacements.
I am, I have to admit, thoroughly impressed by the way you can mutilate an apology
a thousand ways,
never repeating the same line twice.
You were able to, so magnificently, decay any dignity our chapter had left.
But who needs actions, when you have words?

I never thought I'd be the one to write to you,
I never thought I would be the one to carve it out with such strength.
I guess I was sick of being stuck between the river and the tree trunk.

Stop sending me thoughtless flowers.

(Your love was the most thoughtless thing of all)

City Walled.

This two caravan town makes sure the world stays flat,

bleed your fever boy, bleed it the fuck out.

Wind travels through just to whisper there is no change,

the clocks only tick to tell there is no future.

It's always noon,

so you better fucking pray boy, only Jesus sees the good in you.

Wiry fences gape, just to show there ain't no world out there,

birds stretch their wings and sing about no freedom.

That bitch can't seem to hold her glass,

with marks all down her goddamn sunday dress.
The radio only works to scream that noone's got nothing to say,
that bastard kid just born, crying, 'cos he knows he ain't gonna leave.

Keep your head 'bout you boy, books wont feed dirty mouths.
This town weren't meant for passing through.
You can jump on those fucking trampolines all you like,
you ain't ever getting over them city walls.