what novemeber has become

i am a fluctuation
of indifferences
and stuttering catch-22s
searching for alternatives
to love in creases of soft flesh
and against walls
of misty alleyways
i am haunting myself
into submission
stuck in a perpetual state
of dissatisfaction
closer to annihilation
than death
my demons
are stitching me
back together.

(reading what november has become)


ovarian fury

becoming less pure after every calloused touch
a plague of obscenity breeds inside of me
withering me down to carnal blackness
caking dependence underneath my fingernails
i'll claw at you, until you bleed the same grey
spirits and psychedelics froth from my mouth
numbing me to your pleas of chastity
i am not yours to submerge and baptise
i'll cut myself to pieces before your gods
and let the devils enter through my orifices
watch me swallow your iron moon.

(reading ovarian fury)



bleed me
to death
until i am lighter
until i have depleted
my hell is a room
with your name on the door

i loved you
until i could no longer stomach you
my devotions were chained   
around your neck
but you had told me
you liked it that way

you were carving
lines into my skin
and now that i have sealed
you reappear
to see how your absence
has dulled me.

(reading absence)


padlocks of the mind

matted black distractions
skirt around me in transitions
nudging my depravities
into macabre light   

enigmas no longer skim the surface
of my coral coasts
I have learnt to anchor them
to my inky foundations  

i am complete and fragmented
somehow satisfied and discontent
ultimately, i am an unbalanced catastrophe
just waiting to cave in.    

(reading padlocks of the mind)


massacres of the psyche

i was burning
and eclipsing
into an anomaly

on breezeblocked walls
i am unrecognisable 

mixing wine
with narcotics 
i was functioning in thirds

halved and quartered

split and severed

my system 
was swimming 
in your toxic residue

the aftermath 
of your chaos
rests on my bones 

you will be contained 
even i destroy myself


stagnant afternoons

emblems of still days cling to my skin
under gold-dusted amber skies i am hollow

cold tea and tobacco linger on my mouth
like an afterthought lodged underneath my tongue

and i’ll sit and remain motionless until evening
pulls my thoughts into indigo twilight.

(reading stagnant afternoons)


hold me to this

becoming softer after every compromise
brittled and self-destructive, we were charring
into sharper malicious states of being
compressing ourselves into mosaics of bloody reds
that we could only subdue with the lights off

within your abstract i was a rustier version of myself
somehow louder and solid and more often
over time my skin became imprinted with circled maps
your future was bluer but it was never mine to live
i was suffocating in the residue of your purity 
i have wreckages of failed loves littered at my feet
take whatever you can carry in handfuls of two
before i become anchored to all the people i’ve emptied
my skies are glossed with complications but i made room for you
even after you became absorbed into my peripheral vision.

(reading hold me to this)



my apathy will succeed
in drowning you faster
than my excuses ever will

i have never been
the selfless sort

bodies wash up
on my graying shores
and lay rotting for weeks
until my neglect
dissolves them

sometimes i sit
in their powered remains
just staring
as their vapours 
threaten to choke me

amidst a haze
of death
i wonder
why i had never 
stopped myself 
from becoming
utterly detached.

(reading detachment)



i have been forced
inside a compression
of intoxication
and badly formed decisions
attached to red vined
limbs of need
i am the one
decaying behind the glass

you have been tracked
along my nerves
with metal restraints
and you are pulling skin
off bone
to make room for yourself
i know exactly
what my scars are worth.

(reading scars)