I'm sincere and weeping
As my mother climbs into her car and smiles.
That life I'm sucking, or whatever
I'm caring, I care.

It's my heart shaking and spilling
Pieces of wet junk all over you
I'm delighted to see someone, anyone
Notice

Or wipe their mouth on my shirt
While all I dare to do
Is grin, or worse, look down
And pretend I didn't see.

I'm tearing and getting some sort of
Goosebumps from not hearing you.

Speak.
Though, maybe I'm not meant to care,
Not meant to hear.

Little salty mouth sucks skins and
Turns it's face to the sun
Crackles and dries up into
Two silver circles misplaced
On her face.

It's something to think about, those lips
When being scalded, scolded and swept
Into the floorboards
And when you're just ill.

I'm horizontal from the super moon
And the weight of you upon my body

My open throat shares it's wounds only
With dream-eyed aging men
And the stinking digits of ex-lovers.

They poke and scratch at what they claim is theirs.

I neither argue or fight
But shift my limbs into their own
Stroking hearts and grinding bone.

Buses howl and weep as teary eyed drivers
Have hysteric moments of weird intimacy
With themselves; intimidate me
Date me, rape me into
A resemblance of something
I used to be,
Someone with well-kempt hair and shining eyes
That don't take naps twice daily

In armour for you, enarmoured
And being led by your hand down into some hot bed
With four tall posts and a kitten for my head
When I'm not sleeping it's said
'She'll go far'
Maybe I just want to listen to night noise
And hear your quietened voice
Drift in and out of consciousness
While a conscientious rose peeks in and sighs.

It's been four years and I've collected nothing,
Collated and contributed nothing. Not one
Word was useful and even this is fucking awful.

Soulless ironless seams of my body
Coming apart when your fingers pry and seek
Meaning that might be accumulating behind my ears.

But I'll wake up
One afternoon in a year or three
And feel the noon sun on my neck and
Regret hating everything about you and me.

More than one bath a day
Points to certain deficiencies in mind and space
Scratch paint off the walls and make this place
A haven for you and me
And tiny dream children with wild hair and
Fingernails that point and tear
At my terrible lack of colour.

I'm dressed in someone else's mess
And becoming less and less myself.

:)

To be scrutinised in that vast place
Is to have your face
Screwed off
And inspected for glitches, nothing unnoticed here
It's all slippery magic cast by small witches
And bitches
Wearing black.

If you would like something destroyed
or lost

I'm dreaming of starcraft
And your fingers untangling my hair
Nine hours in a car induces a small happiness
As I picture me hurdling into unmarked territory
Myself against the tar

But it's not too far
Until I'm north again

And when I'm spent
I'll curl into you
And we'll make a pretty portrait of two
People probably pretending to be happy