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Oh these words don’t come so simple
When you’ve kept them locked away
And these bones are far too brittle
To lead you to astray

I tried to make you bleed
But I couldn’t make a fist
I tried to make you whimper
But we’ve never even kissed

This heart’s as easy to the beat
As it ever was
See you drowning in the heat
Of salt water clean us off

Kids we cried
We’re kids is all
Not old but bold and graceful yet
We’re kids we cried
Just kids not yet
Not ready for the bow
Yet crow’s feet tell a different tale
Like milk you’ve left us out

If you want words
I know them all
I’ll pour them out for you

Yet dreams we crash against the cliff
Darling one and you?

Kids we cried
We’re kids is all
Etc

I can love the bones of you
With luck that’s all that’s left
So eke the marrow out from me
The rot has set in quick

Yesterday could be someone
We’re not someone today
We tried our hardest
Made them laugh
Made them cry along the way

Kids we cried
We’re kids is all
Etc

Kids we cried
That’s all we’ll be
Til there’s nothing left at all
Never did grow up all the way
Sorry that’s my fault

Really rough phone recording of ideas, if you want to hear me talking to myself.
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So now you’ve peaked at thirty
And nobody’s here to save you
So you shove down bile
Like cheap whiskey
The burn in your throat
Asks if you’re still thirsty?

Like maybe there could be more than this
Like maybe you could breathe
Like maybe you’re not just wasted air
Between one blink and the grave

So now your bones are curving inwards
And your body shakes at night
Salt sweat brow on pillow case
Are these dreams sweet dreams
What you thought they would be?

So now you’re damned and empty yet
Howling wind in hollow frame
Do these screams belong to you?
Or is it just a noise you make
To keep your insides from spilling out

So now you’re older than you ever meant to be
You promised yourself a morphine drip
Six years gone and you’re still here
So now, so now, so now, you cry
So what? They say, times have changed
Leave your face in the mirror
And forget about shoes
Go outside in barefeet what’s there to lose?
This place is a prison, you’ll say it again
Yet you built it yourself you chose the fucking bars
So tell me again about what you think you deserve
And I’ll drive the white horses acting as hearse
Climb in, climb in, last call, let’s go
But dammit you’re not done but guess your number’s up
Tell a joke, it’s gallows humour and nobody laughs
Any last words for the audience due to applaud?
No. I didn’t think so. Call this your remorse.

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I have this dream – clean white sheets and the sun streaming in – dust motes in the air, getting caught in the rays – and it’s morning – it’s morning and I’ve been awake a little while – still drowsy but there’s nowhere to be so it’s okay – maybe it’s a weekend or maybe we made it – we don’t have to get up because our lives don’t depend on nine til five – I don’t know. But our hands – my left and your right – we’ve got them – I don’t know how to say it, sort of raised in the air between us, and it’s like a sense memory – none of this ever happened – but I can feel what it was like to push your fingers down and play with them – sliding my fingers between them like they were meant to be there – finding the tiny webs between them and being in awe of how delicate it all is – and how I wanted to bite at your knuckles because I was so in love that I wanted to hurt – like when you see something so beautiful you want to destroy it? And I dragged my nails down your wrist, gently, not even leaving marks, tracing the veins there and you were so breakable like maybe your bones were hollow and your skin shone in the morning light like maybe you were something otherworldly and you were, to me. And I remember thinking how lucky I was to have this. Like amber solidifying. This one moment. And it never happened. But God, it’s in my head and I can picture and feel every goddamn second of it, and if that isn’t the worst goddamn thing you ever heard –

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Need a bullet to the brain to clear my head
But I think I’d rather be dead instead
Learnt about Kurt Cobain when I was too young to know better
And now I crave that Seattle weather

Poetry

the moon demands that you shed your skin
because it is better to be animal
when the silver hits

eyes reflect in the dark
and the surf roils
and like something primal
you feel absolved –
washed clean of the sins of your father

heart beats flow more slowly
as the tide welcomes you in
the in out of your breathing
a staccato as old as
the salt on your tongue

you duck your head under the surface
and it welcomes you home
as it muffles your ears and takes your breath away
lungs burning

(we are made of this, we came from this, and so we return)

Poetry

I’m sorry
Really, I’m trying
I think maybe that’s part of the problem
Because the earth’s too dry
For what I’m growing here
And I might fall through the cracks

I thought if I gave you my voice
I’d be amplified
But instead I find myself
Buried, dirt in my mouth
And I want to scream
Is anybody listening?
But it’s uncouth to do so, isn’t it?

I’ve gone through so much thread
Stringing myself back together
But I’m lumpy in all the wrong places
And I’m hard to love
And soft in ways that make me
Want to bleed out all over the floor
If you scratch at the wound
I’ll shiver for you

Do you think I was born this way
Or was it something I carved out?
There’s so much black in my eyeline
And so much water in my lungs
I’ve tried to swim but I like the way sinking feels
And I’m not going to lie and tell you otherwise

So if I’m there in the static
Lean forward and try to make me out
A tiny black and white excuse of a boy
I lost my best friend to
The heartattack promise of a kinder world
So maybe I’m not as solid as I used to be
That’s on me, I know

The mirror’s blurry
But the glasses make me someone else
So I guess I’ll make do
With seeing myself through you

Poetry

I broke the heads off
All my sunflowers
I didn’t like
That they were taller than me

I think you knew before
You met me that there was
Something wrong about
The way that I breathed

I’m sorry, I built myself
Up and I’m carved out
Of sand and
The tide is coming in

The world’s on fire
But I’ve been burning for years
My skin scalds red hot
Keeps me safe keeps me warm

I believed in reprieves and
The space of not being
Needed or wanted for
Anything other than love

Before realising that
That hurt the most that that
Was the most broken jagged piece
Of glass between my toes

I stare so hard I think
My eyes will turn white
Like milk and all I’ll see is
What I’ve been endless nothing now never dark

Leaving was an apocalypse of
My own design and all
That remains is the marrow
In my bones ’til you suck that dry too

There will be flowers again when
Winter turns to spring I won’t
See them but I’m
Assured they’ll be there

This place is a prison and I’m
Only operating one small portion
Of all the clanking machinery that
Drones on and on in the background like dulled screams

I’m a virus and
I’ll infect you too
Mask yourself and quarantine
The very bones of your spine

I’m sorry I couldn’t be beautiful
For you, I built a pyre but it’s damp
The kindling won’t light there
Isn’t anything more than sparks in the night

Salt sea air and I have that in common
The cries of the gulls above me
Six feet under and breathing in dirt
Didn’t I tell you I was doing well?

I haven’t been myself lately
I think it’s something in
The way the floods roll in
And in miniature oceans
We pile up our belongings
And pray that we don’t lose
Like maybe there’s something to lose
Like maybe there’s something
Like maybe there’s something
Like maybe there’s –

Poetry

Sorry, I know we’re running out of time
The planet’s on fire
And you’re busy pouring petrol
The flames are beautiful as they lick around our twisted limbs
Aren’t they?
Carbon turns to carbon turns black grey ash
And I breathe you in as you breathe me out
Smear soot fingerprints on the glass
As it smashes when the heat forces its way through
Billow up into the atmosphere
Smoke sharp in your lungs
I’m burning up and you’re smiling and I think:
“oh, I guess this is what you meant,
when you said that I could be lovely”
I turn through colours blue yellow white
A birthday candle hushed out by the breeze
Can you smell the death of me? Of this?
Kiss me hard and scorch me like you’re cauterising a wound
I can’t feel my tongue anymore as it makes its way around words I wish I’d said
“run away with me, run away with me, run away with me”
You laugh like an explosion and it pierces like shrapnel
And it’s in the bones of me now
“I chose you” you say voice nearly lost to the wind
“I chose you because you had long since washed up on the soar and dried out, the salt of you shaken away”
“I chose you” you say
“because you looked back”
You strike the match and it bends my spine like willow
“You were perfect” you assure me
And as I’m eaten away
I repeat that to myself
“You were perfect”
Oh.

Is this my fault?