stoop and hide
red cheeks
from loves
and hates,
wear yourself



They make us bristle,
those people,
the ones you’d live for
(but not die for)
the ones you’d love to hate
(but not hate to love)
the ones you’d destroy for.
They fill you up
till the light cracks out
and you’re wasted.


It’s all about memory
when you boil away the fat
leaving just the sinews
tenuously holding the whole
earthly monstrosity together.

Take away the taut skin
too thinly stretched on fraying
muscles and let bare the soul.

It all gets a soul, eventually,
but more often than not
it takes a lot of time and hurt
to get there; it’s born in blood
and baptised in forgotten futures.

“Gather all the Failures”

In one swift movement
i’ll gather up all the failures
of mine and throw them away
to swim in lakes of fire
and trouble me no more.

I’d gather all the successes
and plant them on plinths
of solid gold and bring
all who cared to watch
and pray, but there are none.

At least, none worth talking about.