Blake bled black and red

I have so many words
In the front of my mind
In a font that can be engraved
To nothing but ill intent

What could I ever have expected
From something unreciprocated
Suspended disbelief
In a quiet calm of all-knowing eyes

Knives and knuckles
Burst and blunted
Film and friendships
Exposed and expired

I have these words
In the front of my mind
There in the afternoon
Forgotten by midnight

It's not even that I'm all angry

I left my keys on the mantlepiece
A little brass family
Tucked up into a little silver ring

I threw out what you left behind
Because I didn't want to have to see you
For the next sixty days

I didn't stop on the stairs
For a rational reason
I let my lower limbs react for me

When I saw your fingers entwined in his
Cacophonous crackling in my cochlea
Like an out of tune radio frequency
Was all I allowed myself to hear

It didn't matter to me this morning
That I was leaving behind the room in which I first pressed my lips against yours
Nor that I would never get the same particular type of phone call from you ever again

The only thing that mattered was that I was leaving behind a tiny brass family
That built a home in my pocket

The young applicant's handbook

Over lines of ones and zeroes
You sent me songs of love and hate

Over thick tense air
I'm more visible than ever

This body is a mould of a soul
My body is the mould on my soul.

Peculiar little fringe veiled frowns
You're not smiling

"Yes I am"
Well fine; you are then
But you're sad

"We're all a bit sad"

Angela needs friends

It was a raw deal
Something so unfair that God himself did wince
Startled by the rhythm of injustice
A blind blonde mistress
Falling victim to love

From where I stand
“You’re a terrible bitch”
But my relatives just need a smile
A shallow signifier that slurps and swirls
That can make them sigh and think
“I’m happy he didn’t turn out a gay”

We can stay out after dark now

I don't want to write.
It makes me think too much.
But you're damaged goods.
I really like that about you.

Y'know when I said this would be a mistake?

Fuck to no words, just promise to be honest
My mind was melting and our friends had drugs
We fell out of comfort and into sand
We'll be fine, just black it out
I still want to get under your skin.
I still want to make life harder.
I really hope this is all imaginary
I really fucking hope I don't get caught
I'm new to all this.
God, I hate it when I believe in you.

St. Stephen was a desperate aul cunt.

Ten per cent beer
Makes me feel warm
Wrapped up in old promises
Strapped up in my inhibitions

I wish I was Houdini
I remember the old wood of this public house
I hate crowded places
I remember you all
Old friends
I don't know you, with the bright smile

I'll forget about all that tonight
Because happiness is a womanly bottle shape
Filled with bitterness, smoke
And ten per cent alcohol.

At least I think I did

You told me you're afraid of me getting too attached
You don't want to break my heart

But you don't know,
I'm only in this for another fuck.

Promised Hand

I've always felt like an anachronism
I've always felt slightly out of place
Everything would be childhood simple
If it was just a different year

All the parties seem crooked
All the faces too similar
A brown and white swirl of clay
An eye too clear
A mouth blurred

If I could hold out just a little bit longer
I could get back to 1985
When it was alright to make mistakes
We'd drink and laugh and feel like there won't be a future

I feel like I have a future
I know that I don't belong here

I just want to sit on a park bench
Listening to the Cure
Staying out all night.
Being young, belonging to nowhere.

Fertility and Fragility

Welcome home,O poster girl for pretentiousness
I can't say you're what's wrong with the world
But you're definitely part of what's wrong with me
A demon for poetic license
And a friend to all I decided to leave behind

In the rain, by a shipyard,
My words came screaming back at me
From the top of an old hotel
Built out of family feuding

I can blame you for it all
The way my head is spinning
And the preposterous expectations
I have to live up to
You can accept responsibility for my downfall,
For my limbs falling asleep
While I'm wide awake
I can't stand pins and needles.
I can't stand it.
I can't stand how
Much of a turn on it is watching you put on my clothes.

Will an asterisk do?

Looking for stars, out of frame
Maybe out of focus
My Nana used to say:"There are no stars anymore"

Turned out she was batshit crazy.
Keep looking dear.

Embarassed

Back again.
This fucking town
Old drunken women, singing pop songs at me
Grey.
This fucking town
Grey.
This fucking town
Grey.
This fucking town
I might have made a traditional mistake.

You make everything I do seem slightly more shit.

I have new friends who really aren't too interested in any of that nonsense
I smoked by Kavanagh and crossed the Atlantic.
I got home and punched things and broke what I could
I stopped walking to town and I began to lose keys
I found a new way to live but there really wasn't an awful lot of good in it.
Fuck off, I'm in the library.
I need to decide if I like myself at the moment.

Sleeping Vertical

The wall of this building is holding me up
It's making me cold
But my bed is unbearable
My broken books Fixing the photos
Worn by my wall

Strolling through my pockets
Happening upon some new words
Marrying them to concrete

I have jars
Filled with my memories
On old oak shelves.

I'd come out tonight
But I tied my hands
Around my wall.

Walking across puddles

I had a grandfather who was a hero
I had one who was a villain
I had a piano
I had a bad time
At somebody's party
I had a home
I had a girl sing to my skin.

Today

I can't feel my toes
As I'm bouncing from the footpath
Lifting off with my soles
Today, is a beautiful day

Blue bags and faded feeders
Showing off in time to the breeze
I'm glad, for the sake of being glad
There's something wrong with that, but I don't care what.

The sun is shining through slabs of red brick
It catches my eye
My smile goes from beaming to blinding
Today, is a beautiful day

And to think, They issued a storm warning last night.

Foetal

Everything is out of order
My father has no self retraint
My books still have their price tags
My childhood cryptic eye
Casting cobwebs on Lennon

Your maternal fifties glow
“I’ve been thinking it’s a sign”
Remember we were dancing
Your hands flashed black and white
You belong in black and white