Presently UntitledI went walking and I found I had a million things to say. But when you came to see me I was full and naught. The words will not come right, I think I'm done with words. I think I'm done with trying hands at greatness. I am always in the middle, mediocre kid. My eyes are full with days as I struggle with hands behind my breast. The swelling in my lungs, I feel it here. I am tied down. I am tied down. I need to leave this place or I will lose my mind.Can I find myself lifted? I sit in new corners of this all too familiar everyday and paint my hunger onto pastel pinups. My sketchpad fills with things I'll never be, persons and people I will never be. I could die right now and leave this unfulfilled. I could take a breath and swallow pills. I could dress myself in finest blues and greys to welcome the coming haze. Some part of me says this is what to do. Some part of me says you'd sleep with me, too.I've made a hundred resolutions these few days, but this I think is most resolved. I'm do
swearI promise that my promisesare true. I swear I won'tbeguile or hide a part fromme from you, nor tear myselfin half. this is my heart: inpieces yet intact. this is myheart.and with a shutting lens I holdyou in my eyes for one moment intime, before you run before thesefaces shift, before the crowd movesforth and eats you whole, a victim ofthe city buses' swim.one day I'll row upstream tomeet you in the middle of theintersect, that giant square where angrydrivers try to cast us to the sides.but stop, and say these words; the hornsblare on their own accord. you'llgo to school to hear them sing andwrite your song to match. and Iwill play, off time.you'll go to school and sing butI will stay the same, with booksand notes and my off-beatingdrum. you'll go to school and sing. andswear to stay in love.
cold.Stretched across a bed, crafting the wordsI never mean for you to hear, I domy best to fill the space betweenmy fingers where your constellations fade.I cannot hold this air myself, no matterhow persistently I've tied balloons.The neon stretch splits easily, I don'tknow anymore just what I know.If I could sleep and wake in spring,rise to new light and optimism there,I would. If I could die within awinter snow to save you ounce of pain,I would. I'm not sure where to turn,I've gone from stabilising self, fromletting go to reds and metal slits, toknowing heart beside my own, two eyesthat watch, a second mouth to crest withsharp inhale each time the blade drawsnear. But I cannot let go.This winter's mine, still not to holdupon your hand. The chill draws near again,I tell myself this love is still enoughto thaw these sheets.
ShipwreckedIf it wasn't this, then it'd be somethingelse. It seems we're at a constant tug ofwar with seldom exeunt. The victory ispyrrhic, one of both of us lay piecedbehind this mess. I cannot let itrest.They told me love was no small feat,that passion does require work to shape thefire into something hearts can tame, somethingwe can contain - but so far both have lostcontrol, and both at once. This ship is sinkingsoon, and slow. Dare I abandon ship?Get out while you still have the chance. Mylungs have filled with tar and grey salt water.I cannot manage tears that came twofold,one pain is quite enough. I find myself detached,I'm falling backwards towards a world I knewtwo years ago. Could that be me again?No matter how many times I can swear it'snot your fault, I think that we both know.The surface stills and ripples evaporate towardsa mainland shore. I've never felt quite soalone.
Double-Headed SonnetMy double-headed sonnet screamshis songs in verse outside onto the nighttime,I'm alone within. Silently I drawlines across my eyes. He told me whichshade always suited best. He told mewe would lie even in death.And under fishhook stars we professed vowswe hoped that we could keep. Todayyour face dawns side of grey, we'reblank. Red sky at morning and I knowto eat my breakfast and be on myway.How went that children's odd cliche?Who would still say that two heads valuegreater than a single thought from glass?Sometimes I hurt in places I knewyou could see so that you'd see me,too. But no, both faces turn withinand still, I'm waiting with closedwindowsill. The curtains drawn, I wakeand start my day. I cannot see the colourof your voice, and so I can pretendthat you remember what it's liketo be in love with me.