Adventures

These days are all untitled
They bring me nowhere that my feet want to stand
No traversing for me
No tactile thrill
Of dragging my fingers
Along the walls of old red bricked buildings

No adventures for her please
She can't sleep
She's locked in a room of thoughts
Where she huddles and winces
Where someone should really hold her
And ask:

You look so sad
How can I protect you?

"Well it's a funny story actually"
She just needs to be found
And nursed
And nestled
To the sound of English
Then we'll go outside again.

Fires

I'd like
Damp, muddy shoes
And bright red knuckles

The smell of burning wood
And whiskey wrestling with itself
All the way down my throat

A scarf
A shiver
A stare
From you illuminated.  

Belle, book, candle

There's someone missing
Some mother missing someone, something
Untimely ripp'd
Do you know of him?

Let's remove
Reduce
Replace

It doesn't matter who
Just speak and listen
You'll do
Just tell me something safe
In the back seat of this car they gave us
She's old. She breaks
But if we could just be children here
In a backseat of a car
Grip my hand
Squeeze my thumb blue
Radio struggle to sound
Crackle, bristle, brush
Whisper
Kiss

Tell me I'll be okay,
You'll do

"Eight is my favourite number"

TICK TICK TIME

Kick my shins
Comb my hair
I was never my father's son
He was a man built of concrete words

I'm but a boy
With hollow vowels in maroon holsters
Standing so still
Feeling so small
With my eyes wide
Looking up

Reflections of clouds
At eight years old
In the whites
The whites
Of my eyes

Oh Isobel where have you been?
I've been worried sick
You've been so sick

The sky is falling darling
We're all safe now
We needn't worry
Look how bright the blue is

My black and purple shins
The blue and white sky
Your bright red being
Brought the breath in
I can
Taste it

The purple
The red
The black
The words
The blue
The nerve
The blue
The eyes
Your eyes

Your eyes
Are all painted Sinatra blue

For Dara

These days go by just slow enough
to catch a glimpse.
Eight second days
and four second nightmares
all ploughing into
a heartfelt moment of slight,
swollen eyes
puffy cheeks
tiny fingers
stretching up at me
to meet my own
stunned at the sight
of emerging teeth,
separating and forming to meet curves at the sides of a mouth
such a beautiful, bright
perfect
minute
new
pure
smile

My lips, your elderly friends

I'll be honest
We brush and touch;
twist and touch

Fill and twist
but still we feel
the awful pangs
of missing out
on kissing childhood

Stick on the leather, dear.

I'm no skyscraper, Julian
I sit and stir
and stir and wank
all the drool
all the lucid
touching
brings me to shivering.
I'm no laureat, Charlie
I crouch and bend
and bend; don't break
I'm much much
stronger
and amsrter.

I've the balls to peel my skin clean
of all your silly heartfelt
nonsense

all the words
and eyes
and lilts
and thighs
and all the
things I wish I missed.