Collapse
having sprinted
having traced
the course
your fingers
counseled
spritely fervent
digging
ticklish
rising gasp
tugging at stale breaths
collated
a week ago today
they
cum
out my eyes
b
o
o
hoo
who
gallops 'cross my tongue
your name
my fingers aren’t the same.
I began
a princess
a mutant turtle
a rock star
a rescued
a moonwalking
Jurassic
musing
typist
a ballet
football
boy
introvert
everyone else
a sporty spice
a ginger spice
a thin
big chested
adoration
a bed bound
sexy
solitude
a painless
slut
subversive
an irresistible
irreverent
reciprocated
single
a disposable
dead
drunk
a lesbian
straight
a long-term
sober
virginal
chaste
an untouchable
alone
golden
a success
faulty
frisbee
a not me
see his lastfm
playlists, hearing the songs
he takes to his bed
we make love in my
head and we fuck with our
palms over our mouths
music like imprint
his songs scar and fever
tuneless fossils of
something we never
had. I am drum solo
pounding skin on skin.
Like super sized
like club
sandwich
double layered
self
four eyes split brained
fork devil tongue
scooping
nasty
out at people
like waking up
half hanging
out of your own mouth
and swollen, gory
being too big to fit
back in
a panic of being seen
like zoo limbs
like cages
every flesh beneath transparent
matters
cavities
it seems to the eye
but like rock like elephants
balancing for circus
on every motion
even words
which are featherweight
with liqueur
laurels on other peoples shoulders
and bouldering
unshifting
days later
apologies don’t have the brawn
to shift that
like the World
to be anti-gravity
and weightless
like everyone else
to be moving over and around
you
a litter
a turd
in the street
in the bed
in the inbox
like you
the physicality of brain dead
like sleep memory
like waking
remembering
a man paying you
for bursting his flesh
squeezing him like a pimple
a horror chorus
of slimy dove
a dream a dream thank fuck a dream
you realise upon pillow
exhausted
before the day
is even clothed
like strangled time
like mime
a sign-language synopsis
spat out by the brain
in ill-humored
epithets
that promises to rest
once the body
has spat out the blood
and booed
at you enough
to be finally
done
fucking
of it
is more fun
yourself
face
for the sake
than just punching
in the fucking
face
yourself
is more fun
of it fucking
in the fucking
than just punching
for the sake
Fucking
for the sake
of it
is more fun
than just punching
yourself
in the fucking
face.
If I don’t take a break every now and then and talk to someone
I’ll die
that’s what he said
short stumpy nervously scraping
the scalp under his baseball cap at regular
intervals
tabloid rag rolled up into the breast
of his jacket like a spare limb a crutch a weapon
a page 3 tit
peeking
out at me like a winking blind
man with an infection
me fuckin social worker Rob - I call him nob-head like -
tried to teach me how to use a fucking
diary fucking gobshite fucking silver spoon
21 year old shitbag
he said
21 fresh out of daddys wallet he can fuck off the cunt
I nod. he probably is a cunt.
and then doctor nob-head - he’s even fucking worse
you wanna talk about cunts - he was doctor cunt
that one right gobshite gave me a fucking notebook
to write down all me fucking fears and fanny-feelings in fuck off
doctor cunt - posh as anything he was - and a right nob-head
I tells him
IM NOT PUTTING NONE OF THAT FUCKING SHIT IN A BOOK FOR YOU TO HAVE A GOOD CHUCKLE
AT WHILST YOU'RE TAKIN A SHIT
I nod. Doctor cunt sounds like the type of person to do that.
He pulls his cap off.
A long deep canyon of a scar runs from his eyebrow to his scalp.
See this part of the ‘ead ‘ere love? He points at it. cold cold cold.
That’s where me brain popped there, love.
Oh, I say.
He’s whispering. The conversation feels illicit.
How did you pop your brain?
Don’t know. Doctor said it just happens. But see ‘ere, girl? He points
at it again. cold cold cold.
That’s the part of the brain that handles identity. Fucked, aint I?
I nod. I suppose he is.
Y’see girl, I’d like to write down me whole life story. I can tell yer what happened
when I was 4 and me mam left me in a trolley outside the supermarket, or when I was 8 and the nuns caned me hand so ‘ard that I bled all over me biro, but I couldn’t tell yer about me wedding day or where I went yesterdee mornin’, you understand.
I nod. I guess. I once got so drunk that I forgot an entire year.
Plus, I haven’t got the patience to write more than a page. Doctor cunt says thats a good thing. He says if I had more patience I’d probably want to do more and doing more might kill me huuhuuherrrr.
Fuck. Why don’t you write it as a haiku?
A haiku? Bloody hell love, I had a brain hemorrhage, not a cold.
He leaves.
I get back to work. Whatever that entails.
Heard
the birds chime
discordant decorative
as though hung
from trees the wind gasping
through their
open throats
Heard
the sand heavy petted
and virginal
obediently swallowed
by the sea
Heard
my own feet intimate
on grain like corpses
rattling on the trophy
stick of a hunter
slapping
the sand like a slavery
chant a torment
applause
Heard
the sea revolt
and perish
against within
within against
within upon
against
itself
a turgid
masturbation
kneading itself aggressive
to dry
still placid
rock
clawing the seams
of the beach
for support
Heard
the belching
tide greedy
bloated
a gorilla chest-pound
roar
of bloke idiom
powerless to resist
powerless to this
I will have you have you have
you
Heard
the heart faulty
mechanics
stereo to mono
fuse blown quick slick
dramatics
the drum roll
following a poor
joke
Heard
the choke and struggle
the chuckle
Heard
the limp limbs
and swollen brain
Heard
fluid
mesmeric move
Heard
bones cackle
and snap
Heard
cracked porcelain
and pirouettes
Heard momentary
Heard solid
Heard ellipses
Heard sweet chorus
silence
the ocean
licking at lungs
lips tongue toes
tits stomach sphincter
spine me-oh-mine-oh-
yours
frenched
fresh
sucked
off
Spat
me back
onshore
bored
breathless
like all love
songs
say
honey
moon
half
there
Tea spoons are always
disappearing
you don’t realise their value
till
your coffee
sugarless and milk
ruined
settles wrong
or you pull
the tea bag
out bare fingered
and wrong
wrong wrong
people steal
spoons
people who understand
the value
of such things
creep
in
obviously
and take them one
at a time
they wouldn’t steal
your computer
or cd collection
or tv or anything you’d notice
just a single spoon
at a time just to fuck
with you
people are bastards
like that
they’re always
looking to take
things from you
little by little
right before you need
them and you roam
restless and fuming
wondering where the fuck
it went
and why you weren’t paying enough
attention
to notice
most people take
other things
sacred
things
wordless Godless
roaming lovely
fleshy sordid sacred
things
you happily platter
up
and lose
like charity monthly
debits
of living
or whatever
there’s a vacant
gaping holiday spot
somewhere
I’m sure
and I hope
to vacation there someday
where all these things live
listlessly
waiting
a beach of useless
items and love
and filth
and pining
and energy
and want
whistling
about like a draught
caught between the branches
of languished
trees
and instead of sand
the beach is made
up of all the spoons
I’ve been looking for
for the past
few fucking
years
things like that don’t rust
like you’d think
they would
they settle shiny
and unused
so plentiful
and grotesque
in their collective
size
that they lose all value
you can bet
there wouldn’t be a moment
where you’d need
or even want
a fucking
spoon
on a beach like that
I call them my bunnies.
Pick em like flowers
twist pull sever gum
It started with these dreams
I had when I first met yer
I was all gum
my teeth would fall
out each time I looked at you
one
at
a
time
had a mouth of stumps
de-forestation
you wouldn’t kiss
a mouth like that
would settle
for the odd
blow-
job
though
but like I said - dreams
merely
that
They’re my ivory vows to you
little unworn
wedding dresses
I take what I can to them
little pearls! Jaw-oyster
gory pac-man
-screw-drivers
-pliers
-hammers
-trophies
-hairbrushes
I like to work
on individual
teeth
and deconstruct
them till they’re gone
There’s easier
ways I know
more gradual
less harrowing
The simple
approach would be to just eat
chocolate and sugar
cubes everyday
without hygiene
till they rotted
and cramped
their way out
but I’m too impulsive
for that
impatient
desperate
They’re my vows to you
these bloodied
stumps
don’t want no-one
else
don’t want no other man
to even look
at me
unconditionally
that’s how you should love
me regardless of my fucked
up face
I do it on stage
I’m an attraction
now
everyone applauds
their hands batter
loudly
a set of hungry jaws
clamping
round
grotesque
write back soon
come
back
to me
soon
I’m saving
them all for you
