Tartan

I let you scar me in answer to an askless question. I revelled ingloriously as each misguided infliction scored my futile seekings. A major that played first through fifth in sweet disharmony and lines of minor indiscretion. Tartan lay across my skin in various stages of healing. I held gauze in my teeth as you layered Razor wire upon my wounds - how would I bleed if not by your hand? Bandaged in the unresolved then left to lick free the salt while watching your heels meet the horizon in goodbye

Bouquet

I saw the postured seating
- face forward - chin up -
But an empty plate for eating.

Flies thrummed buzzing wings
- hollowed out - dripping down -
Feasting on the heartstrings. 

Your corpse used as a flower vase
- water held - death dwelled - 
Adorned in maggot petal grace.

Reddy or Not

Razor blade eyes graze deep in the sin
Exposing the tarnished rust underneath
Dead layers of poison blushed rosy skin. 

Relive
Each
Day

Remorse slathers its thick tongue against
Every inch of your grimacing, paling face.
Detached enough to only feel the spite. 

Regret
Every
Decision

Rehearse the pleas for mercy at the sight of
Extraction devices seeking to remove the
Decaying truth from the depths of your memory. 

Recognise
Empty
Deeds

Realise that the crimson wound in your chest
Echoes with the wishes that you had started
Dying before you stopped the others from living.

Paper Maché

Ripped into strips of rough cut sinew
Glittered in silver crisscross lines
Ready to be dipped in thick glue
And rebuilt layer by meticulous layer. 
This new shape is for the fickle faith
That is chanted until made belief
Or assumed to be the matter's fact - 
The curves are chosen in this lie
To fit the outline it previously outgrew. 
The substance that the years cultivated
Do not fulfill the quoted order of being
So are left to rot in the garbage
While the adhesive sets atop mourning
To hide it from the surface view.

Thames Gin Headache

Chipped polish on keratin
Formed instruments of misery
Against the carved ivory candlestick,
But played in time and one half
Between clicked wooden heels
And shuffle scuffed leather toes. 
Shrieking warped wood boards
Bemoaned the restless pacing
Until eased by the storm’s drippings
Rolled from the oversaturated linen.

Youth kept the nightdress white,
Precisely creased on double pleat
Perfumed in almond and rice starch.
The insipidness of immaturity
Creeped up the ironed dart lines
To satiate the linen’s thirst for spoil,
And seeped into the recurring path
In a bogged mix of clay and blood.
The sludge had smudged the vows
Between the ruby and diamond ring.

Lightning had taken exception,
Or so it would have seemed,
To the metal cockerel above the well.
It’s striking boldly lit the sodden grass
To illuminate a solitary jacquard spat
Encased, leather, side button boot.
He’d sworn himself inconspicuous once,
Yet adorned himself so pretentiously
For the eyes of the unwed maidens
On the night he was intended to wed.

The dusty manor house windows
Did not hide the ostentatious footwear
From the overwhelmed on looker
As she bit her nails cuticle bare.
Had he simply fallen, she’d be asleep
For the drunkard had overindulged
On pints of overtaxed Thames Gin.
But he cracked his crown on limestone
Before his legs lost the ability to hold
His brainless form to full attention.

Inebriation settled most heavily
In the bones of his shaking wheeze.
Had not the split of his mindless skull
Incapacitated his conscious movement,
His well wished departure would be,
To the greatest of detest and chagrin,
Replaced by opiate coma numbing
As his bride rode Peeler’s prize
In a carted cage of lucid lunacy
And cursed language of wicked folk.

Luck had been her bedfellow,
Strength her mightiest gift giver,
And determination: her kind muse.
No sooner could he groan in ache
Than his moaning was quick silenced 
In the crunch of crumbled spine
That met with a barren dark age well.
Her hand warmed by the liquid wax,
She stopped pacing to reflect with joy
At the sickening sound of lifelessness.

Vicious Thirst

Originally Written 08/05/2020, Edited 12/05/2021

I want to set my teeth into your throat; 
Gargle sour blood around your larynx 
And tease out your last gasping breath.

I want to kiss the lines of your jugular: 
To rip away the freckled fleshy covering 
Stimulating my taste buds on its pulsing surface.

I want to play maestro with your nerves; 
And watch you twitch and convulse like a puppet 
As I pluck the taught tendrils one by one.

I want to pick my teeth with your hyoid; 
Scrape from my grin your lingering remains
To purge the taste of you from my mouth

Citrine Dreamer

Originally Written 09/05/2020, Edited 12/05/2021

Bestowed gift of manifestation
As laid by this babe's head,
Bring abundance to this child
With bounds yet to be unknown.
Create from his flesh a conduit
Flowing bountiful in curiosity
And free in unabashed glee.
Fortify his bones against misery
And afford him only adoration.
Grant him true expression of
Boundless and pure creativity
Cascading from his fingertips
Or coursing from his pouting lips.

Hold his tongue from envious spite.
Transform those jealous intentions
Into tangible and fortuitous actions.
Harbour angers, fears and explosions
To free his spirit for fresh pursuits.
Transmute his negative shadows
Into innovative and fertile passions
That may regenerate his being
And unshackle his ambitions.
Produce from this humble bairn
An infant of widened eyes and heart;
An enduring and steadfast being.
Make him true, fair citrine dreamer.

Question Touch

Do you have to scrub your skin too?
Scratch off it’s surface over and over
Until twenty burning layers away
From the tracks of unwanted caress?

Remember as the acid seeps through
And you lose that arrogant composure,
That I am only just beginning to play
With these things that helps me ‘process.’

Have you ever had to show your face
When no-one knows the predator won?
Force a smile, a dead eyed, dull grin,
Hoping when friends hug you don’t flinch.

Centre of the tooth, with nerve in place,
I’ll drill a hole through every single one,
Thread through each a fine steel string
To pull them slow with a hand crank winch.

When you’ve walked passed each other
Have you been filled with complete terror?
Did you grasp tightly at your fabric clothes
As though they’ll protect from the shame?

It’s so gratifying to watch as you suffer.
The chemicals turned your skin to leather
It’s time to cut that wailing tongue into rows
I hope I don’t strike a vein, I like this game.

Does the night bring back all the memories
That weigh you down with its terrifying grip?
Do you hope that by the morning sunrise
Your heart would stop it’s painful beating?

I’d quit the whining, there are no remedies
As I watch you choke behind glued lips.
I can’t stand to be devoured by your eyes
But a pin prick will remove their seeing.

Are your days filled with asking why?
Blaming yourself for being the prey,
Breaking yourself down ‘til you barely exist
Pretending it never hurt you that much.

I’m sure you’re all but ready to die?
But you don’t look like your inner decay!
I’ll let you decompose in your own shit
Because a touch is not just a touch.

Anchored Beacons

Dew swept wind hills of May morning
Captured moments in sprinkled droplets
That begged passers by to be collected.
We knew to wait another hour or two
Before stepping into their damp tracks
Lest we become entranced by their tales.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys.

Tiny beetles feasted in the chaotic morning,
Their shells glittered in the gloss of droplets.
When the night's trouble was collected
They'd disguise themselves in a minute or two
Before the songbirds could recite hunting tracks.
It was finally safe to leave our sacred cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.

The glorious warmth of a sunny morning
Reflected in our eyes like twinkling droplets
Of youthful hope. It was our courage collected,
Shared and displayed between only us two,
That we may complete our pilgrimage together
No matter the troubled ground we may cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin.

A journey of miles, trudged through a morning.
Stepping rhythmic, drenched in sweated droplets
And woefully feigning we were calm and collected.
Fear was painted behind our mission worn mask
As we checked the mapped route together,
Arguing the shorter path as we replaced it's cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin,
Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity.

Legs aching from the endless walking morning,
Bodies craving sustenance, but surviving on droplets
Tipped from the final flask of water, and of hope.
You snatched the final sip, cracking under your mask.
It seemed we'd outlasted our journey together,
Our separateness apparently hidden under cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin,
Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity:
Those who fought for the beauty within us all.

We parted with the last seconds of the morning,
Silently wishing the other would reconsider.
Survival now was only built on an anchor of hope
That outlived the violence and psychological masks.
Hope, that final chant uniting the distant together
In a melody no imposter was able to falsely cover.

For humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin,
Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity.
Those who fought for the beauty within us all
Are anchored beacons of hope in dirty waters.