66 Needles.

I could dive into those coconuts and rest my weary little head,
A place to starve myself from my longing to be dead,
A feeling that so forever has done haunt me
Though I know too well the end is daunting.

There is no prison of bad memories to allure me inside,
There are no pockets of dead promises for love to crawl and hide
Just a bunch of empty craters on a new moons face,
Can new stories be contained within the emptiness of space?
I'll have to rip apart the traits that I inherited from Dad
To breathe life into a simple dream that I have had.
Where curly wurly's saved a girl from the dead end of bliss,
Because I promised that I show who she really is;
A girl who's words are like fragments of a future muse,
A girl who's arms could save a soul from past abuse,
A posture stiff with courage that she's never had to use,
Even known that she's possessed as the word is overused.
Though still empty are my days as I am tempted to quit,
Like most projects I most likely won't commit;
This will save a seal from crashing dead upon the rocks,
And keep afloat her boat with just the gentlest of knocks
But where's the gain in stopping when I'll only hurt myself?
I'd rather watch a toy be placed back broken on the shelf
Than waste the abundance of smileys that have fled into my eyes
With 66 needles that sparked both my strength and my demise.


There's fear in every day that my words will go to waste,
Will burn themselves to dust, ignited by their haste,
But if I sit back and mull on this delightful taste
Her boat could float out of reach, without a trace.
I can't help but let my love run blind.
I can't help that she's a constant in my mind.
I can't help but long to hold her in my arms,
Falling in to sleep, knowing that she's mine.

I'm drawn between two stories, I question what I want -
To make the most of my youth or find stability to flaunt?
Through all this complication I shall bereft it of complexity;
It's the old-stone case of freedom vs. fidelity

Homeless

Silence here since the last Monday of '09.
And what twists and tangles I have lived.
She of which I've wrote before, I write of now
For love knows many names and withstands time.
Dimples in her skin from where my fingers press,
Those thighs my eyes forever mull on.
Her stare of infinite want for us to be conjoined -
A wish granted by the tight wrap of my arms around her waist.
My chin finds home in the join of her shoulder to neck,
My lips dab love-paint there - how safe.. how homely.
Inside her I wish to hold the future still,
And topple together into a void bereft of time
Not to face anything outside of our connection.
We trade faces via the suck between our lips,
Our hearts always carried the same beat.
More often - our dance is cut short,
We loose the rhythm in our movements;
Abuse makes home in the corner of her worried eyes
And fear pulls her back into the darkness of her past.
My throne feels tiny cracks, for weak foundation,
I withdraw - anger draped over insecurities.
There is a scraping , clanging, on the floor.
It is pride in the form of a bear trap, clung around tear's feet,
They wish to join the bed but I ignore them.
In the corner they stay waiting, for only I have pride's key.
But how then did she let my tears free that night with him?
They ran tracks over the bone of my cheeks,
Crafting splotches on the cases of my pillows..
My guess is that pride has rusted over the years,
Failure as a trap, as I am as confident.

Here, now, the air is stale.
My bones sport her imprint.
Tiny grooves in the back of my skull wear bane,
And slung is sloth from ear to ear, mirrored in my house -
A reflection of my inner head splayed out in form of clutter;
Shoes, few guitars, dirty bowls, dirty clothes, things of that nature.
Even musk seeps between the tight pressed pages in all my books,
Mocking to be read. This is my existence - dirt.
I wish all could snap clean - pure - vanilla as her milk-white skin,
But lack of she brings plague to comfort and content.

1,500 meters of you.

You sat inside my ear, a perfect hideaway for all the links we share.
The wallflower grows inside of both of us, and somewhere in between.
I called just to hear your voice and how we suffer on the inside both the same,
Just sparked from different flints and flamed by different winds.
Aren't we all just a little misunderstood?
No, they don't relate.
We sit back inside our heads, disconnect from all the petty little things that could make us 'normal.'

And for some reason there are people looking up to you and me, like we're mother bird.
But there is no flight here, our solidarity washes away too easily - like footsteps in the sand being dragged out to the sea.

My mother yelled at me how your mother yells at you. She wants to know why you open up your veins to spill your life onto the floor for any pretty little girl, but not to her. In reply we muster up some way to throw it in the air with teenage angst.

If I could I'd wrap you in my arms to wash away the thoughts we share of logging out.
With my eyes clenched shut, all I have to save me is this wooden body.
With your eyes clenched shut, you find your own salvation.

Dedicated to Jaxon Waterhouse.

6:24

Wondering through each minute like I have something to be looking for.
No one else.. just the two of us.
Oh, Emptiness - why not let me dream?
The curtains grow so heavy over these warn windows.

With every ticking tock I think more about nothing.
Or about this fallacy of men being man.
The dark blue velvet rolls out downward from my head,
Spilling on to the floor and twirling into itself.
Building up around my legs, around my chest,
Around everything I am and I am not.

Oneness - the fabric and I.
I see now in folds of robin egg,
And feel of warmth, happiness.


The black veil rises.
I've done it again.

Where did you go? (You made my heart sink.)

I felt the crumble of despair and the sickness of myself alone
To dwell on all the points of yours in which I find her staring back.

She mocks me, or is that just the torment of my mind?
In which not only do I hear her - I stare her.
Fighting at the ropes to pull back every untied thread,
To make her realize there was no madness in my head.
And if there was it wasn't sickness - it was love, atorn from reason,
Calling for arms in which to sink inside and beat
That bottle in which flies crawl, no matter what I do.
In the middle a bee lay, soot-black and grounded.
I've tried for years to push that cadaver out of sight,
Since the day the legs gave out; wake up.. why wont you wake up!?
I focused mirth inside those lips where only bane-zest replied,
There were jolts and flutters that I half intentionally ignored
(Although I wished for life and sunlight, I chanted for it's death.)
Lifeless - lethargic - limp - listless.

After school we first met at the throat end of my lane-way.
My blood-machine has never since beat in the same way.
Bereft of love. Teaching to again shares the hope
That a hoofed animal would feel with the tying of a rope.

Only neglect (which I paved across her body and her soul)
Dismantled that which I thought strong, like tungsten carbide.
Holding traits like that of sea-breeze blowing steel into rust,
Of time turning memories of her vulva and breasts to dust.

Regret, naive and drunken with nostalgia,
Is at fault for her made conclusion - all seasons after.
Regret I have forever since held hostage, or it's held me
Captive of a beast, one I had battled for so long;
Shards of teeth ringed out, like tiny bells,
As felled all around it's face pressed against the asphalt.
My thumbs clung deep into it's neck, lips against it's ear -
"This is how I pay you, monster, conk beneath my agony!"
Blood spilled from it's eyes and I could swear that it was dead,
But every day I see him, sneering, in the darkness in my head.

You return, as does an almost false sense of happiness within me,
And type something yours to remind me of yourself.
Then love jumps a trigger you have been playing with a while
(Like when you stand atop a cliff and feel magnetized to jump),
That's OK, an absent father cannot warn of what will happen:
When you play with even toy guns, you are bound to squeeze them off.
More terms, which fashion themselves into your sweet young self,
Remind me what things of which no others mirror quite the same;
Always grasping at my bicep when I hold your legs around my waist.
We seem to fuck away the moonlight, trying to rid us of the taste
Of what it's like to have no partner, laid in bed with no one else,
But it seems that loneliness and intimacy aren't always parallels
Because everyone has secrets which they hold with them for life,
Mine could get me into trouble, yours could cost a man his wife.

I marvel at the purity of your innocent footsteps.
You tread toward learning that which speaks love
Whilst I crawl out the brute's inside womb, defeated,
Speaking only the unfilled, deflated, vacuum of hate.

Deep and dark secrets of which no one will know but myself.

Without hair.
Like where perched
Fathers wives law-sisters husbands middle sons older sisters two lines,
Where her youngest
Brothers mothers husbands sisters law-lovers latest seeds love-meat knocked,
During pleasure-quest and exploration
- few times each year through primary life.

With blood.
Tangled black atop cotton fibers everyplace,
Down Saturday and through Mums mouth.
Steam-baked in concrete with side of tin,
As teeth break lip and skin ushers nails inward.
Lambs food-way left red ring, like black ring left years on.

Milk white.
Easier but closer to the without hair.
Faker heart-pumps carry more deception breaking head
To drop water on what the inside feels only.
God then crafted man of bad feeling to fashion every carbon
Of bars my future person behind will sit
For victimizing oneself to the crumble of desire.

Love absent, not inward.

She loves me - but I scorn her,
Sometimes those hugs are just too tight!
I see a hatred now in Christmas
Where I used to see a light.
Asked what's the engine
Of my horror and my crime?
It travels down my arms,
A beating vengeance of mine.
I kick against the pricks
And pull her body into mine,
With every in and outward thrust,
I fear my heart is on the line.
There are lies now
Flooding through my eyes now,
There seems no innocence
In the fornication you endow.

To the east I see her mountains
Where my hands swim through their skin,
My fingers tremble with my lips as
I try to cover where I've been.
The lies are sifting through my teeth
So much I feel them start to crack.
There is gossip spewing from your mouths,
As hatred builds upon my back.
I realize happiness floats
Somewhere deep inside my head,
But right now loneliness and darkness
Seem to pull me into bed.
My laugh is cold and
Resentful of my faking,
My life sits patiently
Waiting for my taking.
But, when I start to stand
It further crystallizes,
I think 'This night has gone too long!'
And then the sun rises.