I Do Not Think My Husband Knows Me Well

My moods can shift like a coin, flip like my wedding ring,
It’ll trickle as it chimes behind the bed
I’ll forget the money and the love I’ve left,
I’ll drip him into the sink, I’ll harpsichord his words in a blink

He means nothing,
Chant it now,
My Husband means nothing.

I do not think my Husband knows me well,
He’s built a bathtub for all his women, his friends, and his kisses
But he’s to subdue me in another colour, red like his mother,
Drown me in blue in a canvas, oh darling you, are not fit for twenty shades of you,

He means nothing,
Chant it now,
My Husband means nothing.

I do not think I am fit to deep fry his heart in that oil
He wasn’t attached to me, he wants normality, fuck reality,
I want his lemon pith to line my lips and spit it on a roast
Then he’ll take me bloody, back to bed, and propose a toast between my legs

He means nothing,
Chant it now,
My Husband means nothing.

I’ll bludgeon him with a cloud, and hug him with a knife,
My fingers are too curled and burnt to be called a wife,
My arms are too coiled and twisted and cut for me to ever be
His one-night-fuck, I am ruining his life because I am bad luck, but,

He means nothing,
Chant it again now, go on,
My Husband means literally everything.

I Am

I am a wild child, a kid who wears love-heart sunglasses,
Wants to be famous, I am the freak,
Generation Y and my forehead is crowned in paint.

I am a magician, born rare, raised amongst rabbits,
But I so often run with the Hare, and down rabbit-holes
I’ve tumbled into sequin-forests and licked the Moon’s pits.

I wear top-hats, I crumble like a Fool, I’m an ace in the hole,
And they get me to pull out my nails at freakshows,
I wear harlequin faces, clown feet, beware my smile, I can fold,

I can kneel, like a foal yelps for a mother’s nuzzle,
I am every bus lining the streets, they blacken with pitch,
I am magick, whiter than dust and more invisible than a bubble,

I can once in a while subdue my poet-tongue with a lute,
And tell my previous lovers that my heart’s not fit to prick,
I’ll give em’ the rum, drift into the sky, give em’ the boot,

I am wiser than oaks on the Mountains of Ararat,
I speak in tongues, Berbers and dance the Meke
They dab my tongue in the stars, with the eyes of cats

I am a Generation Y Freak, foreign and funny, these are the languages I speak.

Love Poem

Sing like a meat cleaver.
I want a syringe to plunge into my heart,
Take the trust-vein,
Take the love-fat,
Take the aching burn of the artery,
And reduce it to a whisper of a muscle,
Can you hear it chitter?
Pelting it’s blood like rain?
I want a chorus of daggers to feel them drive
Through my ribs, each rib snipping at each fibre,
Can you smell the sinews?
Stab me like the sky.
There’s growing hatred in the tussles of flower petals,
Mistrust in daisies, murder in the moonlight,
They want to cut our eyes so we can’t see.
Twiddling our thumbs like branches on a tree.
I loved a man as if he were my leaves.
Begged him not go,
He looks at the bark-heart,
“This is thy sheath”,
Rolled the laughter under my tongue like Spanish,
Yes, I loved a man like leaves and he groans with his knife and cleaves me bloody into two
Like day and night.

She Makes A Move

I notice the pills are shrugging off you lately,
You’re cupping your bruises like soap,
Clean your fur, wipe the dust off your lashes,
Now you bite your lip.

I know the birthmark on your leg,
I know the scores of kisses on your thumbs,
Your face, your toes,
I’ve bitten that lip for you when you wanted me to.

I’ve scoured your sheets like honey running
Down a jam jar, I’ve sniffed your bath-water like cocaine,
Sometimes you’ve got a smile that writhes
Like tentacles but tastes like almonds.

He says “You’ve gone crazy”, gone like the wind,
Run like the wind, “Can I believe in God too?”
All it takes is a prayer and he’ll come to you
Like the crunch of sand dust in your teeth,

Pinch your skin and he’ll blow a rose on you
Like a kiss and cut you out into stars formed from
Stars formed from stars,
I’ll put a good word in for you,

Just let me bite your lip,
I won’t draw blood, I’ll draw you like a child,
And I’ll kiss your skull
Like paint on walls.

Funnily enough you remind me of the same mouth
I used to suffocate with pecking
Such a pretty way to die,
In the ‘O’ you breathe.

pride

it lifts like a lady’s skirt
I’m no lady, you’re no lady,
he’s too scared and his breath
is heavy
but I heave him into my lungs like
weed and keep the high there
as if it were giving me head
but I just whisper the sunset into
shade and he falls into it
as pens go to hands,
as love letters to envelopes,
as finger to thumb,
his head turned up high.

our kisses are a half-equation, finish it with your –

cock in my mouth
the whole time on this date
my eyes were moving south
and boy oh boy my compass
led me up good on your rocky shores

just don’t be shy when I try to
get trippy with you on the tunnels on
the way home,
just take a pill, suck it up,
and I’ll suck it off

I was already taking your clothes off
by the time you were talking about your shitty childhood
I wanna talk about shitty kinds of love,
yeah, you got Eros, you got agape, you got philia,
I’m into necrophilia and I was doing incest before

I was in my second year
of adulthood, adolescenthood, babe-hood, conceivance,
I’ve licked my mother’s womb with my acidifed buzzy teeth,
milk me all over the wine,
milk over me and beyond the conversation

you’ll check the time
and see the floor looks like a sunrise
and the sky’s opening up like a pair of lady legs to hell
I’m on something,
I swear I’m on something

a kiss be a curse, a twitch on your stache’ and I’ll turn
for women wearing boudoir slippers and nazi BDSM outfits
kiss it, cos our kisses are a half-equation,
so finish it with your
decency.

“Listen and Maybe You’ll Learn Something”

I remember when I was young
I had to learn to listen a lot, they had pictures of
Cartoon ears everywhere around school
Listen and maybe the message will penetrate
Your dusty brain and it’ll be dripping juice
Like an apple by the end
Drink it from a cast-iron hollow blade
You could learn to stab your education
As if it were a sand grain and the wisdom would come
Out flowing richer than coconut oil and caramel
I read it somewhere about
Elements like rubidium reacting with water
And counting to 28 was a new achievement
Then I started listening to things like organs
And instruments
And smoke hissing from drug addicts
And children who were supposed to be listening
To the empowering munch of politicians high on cocaine
They would strangle me like 3 day dirtied thongs
That concubines would leave at the politicians’ family homes
In Hemel Hempstead,
For their wives to find…
Actually, I hardly knew the power of listening until I really listened
Like when I pressed my ears to sound of the neighbours fucking
Or to a child crying for its balloon in the middle of Disneyland.