he prays for love like rain

when he is thirsty he walks in a lake

stones line the edge like stubble

but the grit smiles like glitter

and he gleams his reflection off the water face

like cocaine

when the water rushes to hold him

he holds it like a prostitute

gropes it like a fish’s tongue

for a lip

he loves water song

he hoses down music in bass beats

and drowns in lipstick

his cheeks the colour of strobe lights

and dives deeper into the floor.


Ode To A Bitch

i don’t like you
and i’ll throw money at you like a dog’s dinner,
bark if you like
“man’s best friend”

my eyes roll like clouds
and i’m a switchboard
if anything

but love you?
sure I will,
with your tucked in cheeks like a baby’s teeth,
and your innocence as pure as a wank-stain

my eyes roll like clouds
don’t defy me,
you’ll lose sunshine, honey

but help you?
sure I will,
with your lost exercise books and good grades
disappeared like your virginity many periods ago,

my eyes roll like clouds
my weather is strange,
and you’re as pretty as sleet

but care for you?
care is for the heart
you and I never had.


you can touch me like ice
i haven’t got over your eyes yet;
tell me when my feet can stop peeling
the soil just so you’ll sit next to me

just so you’ll sit next me,
soil me with your smiles,
you taste like blackberry wine,
your moon-drop nails are being chewed

off like a dog-collar,
and you caged me like gas,
goldfinger, you point at me and glow like death,
paler than sunset,

and crisper than dirt.
just so you’ll sit next to me and direct your gaze
into my flesh,
rain on me grey-blue,

you’re one shade, then you’re none at all,
and your chest loves me like leaves to trees,
would you leave me in summer,
i still haven’t got over your eyes yet,

goldfinger be sure,
my eyes burn,
goldfinger touch me after dark
and I’ll glow like cats’-eyes.

Cheetahs, NY

some of you felt the weight of lead close down
on your tongues like an insult;
i swim on air,

smile at me when i trace your skin
with my pencil-fingers,
i can’t draw people like dreams,

they’re immaterial to my soul — relevant
to how i keep my home,
with straw-mattresses and strawberry-lips;

redder than their cold cheeks puffing
out cigars like blowjobs,
redder than my back after a friday night’s shift

they spew their charcoal spit on
women like they’re as invisible as dust,
boss says the strobe lights try to give us definition;

i think we’re as immobile as kisses,
and as dead as sex,
living in shades of purple, pink, glitter,

rhinestones or nothing at all,
the night is as sticky as the concave they come to see,
holed up in a hole

as dead as virginity.

Blue (Baby)

Your skin is sickly
Like conifers in summer
And sleet in March

Do you feel seasons
Twist in your kaleidoscopic veins
A shade for every girl

Who loves to plait
Your frozen blood in blue shades
Do the strands of your hair

Form grapevines
Where we listen to the secrets
Of your lungs burst

Whilst you breathe in a blue sleep
When you dagger our soily dreams
With over flowing seams

Breaking the plant
So as to snap its stem like liquor
With your icicle tongue

(He often speaks of highs in tents
Where its colder than his father’s chest
And warmer than his mother’s fingertips)

Your skin is a sick child,
Studded with brown bruised drugs
On your neck,

You kiss me like owners to their Bibles
But there’s nothing Jehovah about you
You laugh like sand in winter

And in autumn, tremble like cuts healing on arms,
You take a shot on my perplexed chest
And my underwear falls like a leaf

Michelangelo says you’ve ruined me,
But I can’t fix your naked approach to
Killing me,

With your discreet lips
Your skin is calcified meat,
On a slab you lie like a sickly calf

But I love you,
Like apples grow in June,
To the sound of watered geraniums,

And you beat your wings
Like a swan resting on the moon,
She giggles at your disposal of me,

You are Blue (Baby)
And you have a shade for every girl
That wants you.


If we had met in another lifetime,
pears would have been purple
and we would’ve been grinding each other in clubs,

We would’ve been 23,
and all we wanted was pills
to keep away the blues of being jobless,
We’re jobless, but not addicts,
I said we’re not addicts,
but our eyes are tinged orange from the old saltwater
We’ve been storing in our little disco cells
for years and years, rusting away like our hearts
we weren’t meant for one night stands or
Singularities, stop injecting your shitty stare
into my irises every break,
I can’t fuck with god,
And I’m not drowning in your sea just yet,
you’re some satanic insect hell bent
on infesting your backbone into my skull,poison me sweet,
poison in my teeth,
I’ll suck you like summer dries water out of our bedsheets

B to the LT you muscled your way in like the sandwich filling,
B for you, LT for a love triangle,
I’m gonna dissect it like Pythagoras
And fuck it like Alexis Texas on Pornhub
Without the delivery guy being invited in
For triangular-shaped kama sutra.Listen to the state I’m in.
Listen to how I’m growing grapevines in heartbeats
Every time I hear your smile

Or see your chiseled face from across a room,
roses bloom like clouds on night-cliffs
orange teardrops fall, jeez’ i’m a little “rusty” at this

every time i go to catch your butterfly eyes in my net
you fly off like a dart into some other country
even though you’re 5 metres away

5 metres away I say, a jobless addict
hooked on the cocaine of your soul
i’m snorting you excessively like winter snow

writhing in my blood,
you writhe in my blood,
congealing in your voice

blows like smoke
and fucks the air like a devil worshipper
fucks the air like french kisses

only if mother knew
what would she say if she saw me drowning in
a coffin stuffed with pieces of your heart

and cotton candy coated pacman pills
i’m clock watching your eyes,
eating this BLT relationship

like a subway on the train from Victoria,
and i beg to differ,
that you’ll drag me away to hell,

in a devil trap
where i can’t make out
triangle to triangle,

shapes fester eyes
wallpaper licks my sky
all over,
in you
in you
in you

At Eighteen

That adult within me
Is lost like a fairytale book
Of long ago
Where confetti studded my teardrops
Falling off bikes into rainbow mud.

And the frequent heavy sighs over gin and tonics
And talking over the tax rates, the tax rates,
Were percentages as unreal as candy floss clouds
And sugar sweet sunshine
But now I’m supposed to love red wine, red wine,
And yet I feel the wind kick me on a playground swing
As if I were only a child yesterday.

Gore Street Car Park

My honey that never was.

Do you remember shivering at the pay station?

I do. And running past the justice centre.

High on each other’s love-wack,

Tiptoeing the bridge like O2 atoms.

Remembering forever, the future,

Kissing like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

You wore a tailored car,

Made for awkward stiff sex, and long limbs.

Fearful that someday you’d stop my heart like a pocket watch.

The penny, the pound, Gore Street car park where fishes swim up to each other and hug,

You are made of steam,

The stuff of dreams, as slight as a pin prick.

You breathe laughter, laugh breaths.

Spherical like a pineapple,

And you send phone calls to me like the way the wind knocks the air out of me.

Fizzling electricity down my stomach.

The stresses and wear and tear,

My organs have become scratched leather since loving you.

Loving you in a car park when I can see our intertwined fates,

Between cold shudders, and bony fingers.

At One

In winter, I couldn’t help but feel the Sun
Moved on a Zimmer frame.
I was electrocuted into birth,
And I was too tired to suckle my mother.

Layers of snow milked the surface on concrete,
And later, they flushed into a smile of mud,
And water, and grit, kissing car wheels,
Even with a walking stick, it slipped on the way home.

And in a cot I grew my fuzzy subconscious,
Into a bouquet of crocuses and babies’-breath,
My hair was a stubble,
I was a shaved bear.

At one I pointed at the same winter with a Sun
Doused in tea towels, felt slippers, and Bigga mushy peas.
At one I knew something about the weather, the winter.
I couldn’t define age.

I couldn’t wrap my teeth-less gums into the earth,
I felt the soup of the sky break away by clouds,
The assortments of breads, I was never the child,
No, at one, I was a hundred years old.


When the dust burns,
As solid as concrete,
As meaty as a plastic canvas,

You and I shall leave,
You and I shall breathe,
You and I shall pinch the stars
Like rosebuds and heave
Hot oily air into our lungs,

The desert as sharp and stuffed
With sands of a paralysed butterfly,
They quicken their wings, then die,

You and I shall lock,
You and I shall watch,
You and I shall wiggle our thumbs
Into an oblong ocean, a block,
Of ice and soil,

Dirtying the pads of our wounds,
An air that fizzes on our tongues,
In heat, in freeze,

Our tongues two silver forks,

Our lungs a pair of shoes.