the game

sometimes I wake too early.
so I lay there
in the dark.
watching my demons
raise the stakes,
as they play
for my heart.
I can not object.
I can not stop their bets.
so I just pull my mortgaged life
around me
and go back to sleep.

I'm that guy

I'm the one
they reach out to
when boyfriends beat them.
I'm the one
they reach out to
when employers abuse
and humiliate them.
I'm the one
they reach out to
when they are vulnerable
and alone.
I'm the one
they reach out to
when the pandemic hits
and their Friday night's die.


and I am the first one
they forget
when their lives restart.

women

I always see them coming.
walking towards me,
like slow purposeful bullets.
tipped with kryptonite lipstick.
I can't dodge.
I can't duck.
I just stand there
begging to get shot
and when it is all over.
I just lay there.
wrecked and smiling
whilst trying hard not
to give Munch
his scream.

words

words are not who I am
they carry my emotions
and sometimes craft
my deepest pain
but words are not who I am
yes they occasionally tear out
my sorrow
but they also throw my joy
into fluorescent smiles
but words are not who I am
they help me explain the moments
that I experience
as my heart
crashes through days
and people
that impact upon me
like tiny meteorites
upon a moon
but words are not who I am
they explain only a second
of this man's life
a man who chose to write about
the things that everyone else
hides inside

piece of cake

twenty one
days alone.

isolated.

detached from a world.

no human contact.

no touch.

no love.

I can do that

on my head.

blindfolded

and naked,

because

I've been doing

that for years.

letting go

I would have followed you
through a million hells.
but there comes a time
when waiting
becomes a prison
and when love
becomes a poison,
in you heart
and mind.
so I am giving up on you.
I'm letting you fall
where you fall
and shedding this weight
that I have carried for too long.
I have no regrets.
not one.
my choices were mine alone.
but in the end
you promised me nothing
and some promises
should be kept.

infatuation

you'd think
that seeing a knife
staring up from
between my ribs
would remind me
that infatuation hurts
like a mother fucker

nope

turn left

how do we change?
how do we stop longing
for what we can not hold?
these false desires
are just illusions
that inhabit a shadow
of a man
who can not turn left

tides

the tides of the heart
wash in the debris of a thousand lives
and carry away our broken stories
and unfinished dreams
but still we stand here waiting
as if lost between the waves
or swept up by the salty breeze
that dries our souls
I played here with my toys as a child
and now I sit here as a man
weighted by life
for there is a longing in me
a desire to find peace
and a connection to my youth
so with eyes closed
and hands that know only emptiness
I think of the ocean between us
that is steered by your moon
and then I hear a voice
your voice
which sounds my heart
and points me towards home

I want

I want to lose the sadness
from my memories
I want to erase the heartaches
and take back every sin
I want to see my Father again
and talk about poetry with Burt
I want to savour all those moments
that were really endings
and soak in a love
that I never realised was mine
but most of all I want to sleep
like I did when I was a boy
and dream
and dream
and dream