Back To Your Shores

It is written somewhere,
That the sun rises and falls
Like our hearts,
If night comes then embrace
Darkness like your mother,
And dawn like a murderer,

Drowning in your skin
You flush me into water
Shallow and cold but clear,
I ran away from your touch
I kissed your palms as I left

I melt into a cloud,
The picture stains with coffee and meat chunks
Blood on the kettle,
And bleach under the sofa,
The carpet grey.

And pieces of my wrists mince and my dead eyes wince
At your lip-licking stare,
But this is split-ends, discoloured roots, dead women,
And you love hugging cold fingers,
You’re all wet.

I’m 9 o’ clock,
You’re between my broken legs,
You’re the tube from Hackney,
You’re the lube from Ann Summers,
You’re the spade from Focus

And the fertiliser from Homebase.
Fuck my veins deep into your overwrought hands,
Your eyes look chilly,
It’s written somewhere that you want sun-hearts
And lung-sets, and I’ll dig my grave once more,

Kiss me back to heaven, back to your shores.


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