Brain Dead

Nights like these are absent of breeze,
absent of light, but in need of a savior.

He glides into the bleakest back alleys:
no savior, but a fae in a longtailed coat.
Pecking playful kisses on graying lips
to check the drunkards for signs of life.

Nights like these are absent of breeze,
absent of gentleness, yet he still floats.

Broader shoulders than a fae ought bear
lift the unconscious figures up high.
Arms swinging in the cool midnight light
to the feral stride of the step-less man.

Nights like these are absent of breeze,
absent of certainty, or a clear fate.

Unknowing dolls lay at the forest’s foot,
stirred in their own punishing cocktail.
The fae, holding a long silver pin too tight,
nudges open the sleeping eyes forever.

Nights like these are absent of breeze,
absent of objection and knowing thought.

Grinning broadly, with moss dogged teeth,
the fae stitches expression into his toys.
Confusion, fear, hate, love, and pain
are sewn out of spittle-softened milkweed.

Nights like these are absent of breeze,
absent of humanity, thought, or remorse.

Child of Belial

Slow was the first pulsation of this heart
but fast would its thrum be through life.
Mother read in the stars on the chart
that we were to embrace you as eventide
embraces the light that is soon to depart.
You unsettled us with the fixated yellow grin:
we knew sanity and your smile were apart
from the moment you held the bluntest knife
and set into mother’s skin a most demonic art.

Cosmic Flicker

This single light strains to fill this room.
It reflects and refracts off the silk threads, 
weaving together shadows and shines
that may fill the gaps of heartstring walls.

The wax drips from this cup to fill another
that too will burn a flickering brightness
intended only for one room of valuable sight. 

This single light strains to fill this room. 
It dampens in flicker and dulls out in flame
with every patient, calming drop that drips.

The wax drips from other lights to fill this cup.
Connection forges a newly blossoming nova
that grins wide and reaches out to the universe.
This single light was made to light the cosmos.

Floating Until Left

Plenty of fish in the sea
Plenty of dead ones floating
Floating lifelessly
Floating endlessly
Endlessly stuck in a cycle
Endlessly bobbing along
Along the cold surface
Along the same lines
Lines of the horizon
Lines of a tourist's sight
Sight for the sorest eyes
Sight that fades away
Away from memories
Away from the aged
Aged like rotting milk or
Aged like wine
Wine sat in a cellar
Wine that's finely labelled
Labelled as refined
Labelled to raise the price
Price too high to pay
Price holds us back
Back from all our dreams
Back to the start
Start to feel bitter
Start to feel angry
Angry at the system
Angry at the man
Man united in struggle
Man up for the fight
Fight for what you want
Fight for that love
Love of another
Love of a connection
Connection to their heart
Connection severed so fast
Fast to move out
Fast to sell up
Up the ante
Up the stakes
Stakes in the dating pool
Stakes in the game
Game of dating
Game of swiping right
Right to get a winner
Right right left
Left with the dead
Left without anymore fish
Dead
Fish

For Gramps

Today there's a new bumble bee
hovering over the speckled daisies. 
Small wings play soft music to me
that sing the same words you did. 
Those songs still croon in the breeze
through the stripey bumble bee fuzz.

Tonight there's a new shining star
shimmering beside the smiling moon. 
It glistens brightly against the stillness
watching calmly over the world below. 
I swear that star has a laughing grin
from seeing the same pranks you pulled. 

Tomorrow there'll be something new
so familiar that it feels almost borrowed. 
The gentle reminder that you're near. 
You reflect in our features in the mirror; 
In our kindest deeds to our neighbour;
In the hearts that'll remember you forever. 

Do not think after midnight

I gave the voices your tongue to hear their words in the voice of another. How differently I hate myself when the recital of criticism takes on a separate tone. The ex-plosives are missed as your snipes detonate in an uglier timbre. The richness of that trill is taken as an ever renewing esteem tithe, gradually depreciating my self-belief’s valuations so the bare bones can be given back to the earth cost free. Would the words you made me delete have made any difference? They’ll greet me when I finally give into the bitterness and momentarily regret all I hadn’t the chance to regret before.