eating granola alone

each time u touch me
my body becomes a veil of smoke
because i cannot run after the jagged in ur ease.

tonight i may freeze in a pile.
i long to hate u and find a way to turn ur bones to gravel in my arms.

i sit here
eating granola alone
thinking of the way u cut me with kisses

and the way u grind the knife between my lips.
i was butter once.

i was soft and made to melt
in the palms of a wet god
and inside my steam was made for love.

the crumbs of me
are wasted on ur invalid
that i were a text message away from paradise

and a phone call away from normal.
u tell everyone we’re not trying
but all my efforts bleed back into ur eyes.

u tell me i’m the kind of beauty
that would make the sun fall into the water
and the rest of night would turn pink in my gaze.

and i don’t want to miss u
sat here, eating my granola alone
but all i can be, is, alone.

my fashion is ur winter.
i hope u wear it.
and i hope that u will lose ur purpose

when u lose me.


i long for your coming disappearing

i looked at you through a wall;

misery, cold flame

upstairs we fuck loudly – your neighbour probably hears
i’ve had enough of confusion; this baptism of blasphemy

so i read temptation in the wilderness

the devil fingers me rotten

heavy; this joint puts me to sleep
outside a bar you wrestle with my untouching

i wish i were on drugs

i only microdose the moon now

you come back at 3, we fuck again loudly
incense steam

you struggle against my wake

i want you 10,000 miles away from me

inside the fibres of my chest
in the colours of my wallpapers
you be my dyes; i will be your lacquer;

oh please

fuck off
fuck off
fuck off

no hard feelings

your mother listened // to me giving you oral once.
she was hurt // she cravshe was hurt // she craved
she was hurt // she cravburnt the line // sandalwood on her tongue
all the cum // eroded my gullet

she was hurt // she cravedthen we broke up // she was happy
and your sister said // she’d always hated me
she was hurt // she crawe lay in bed watching scary movie // i never cry
you missed me in spain // i lied

she was hurt // she crai have been known // to turn oranges inside out
she was hurt // she cravedstick strawberry seeds // to lungs
she was hurt // she cravedshe was hurt i love abroad // you love home
she was hurt // she cravedshe was hurt i love giving // you love taking

she was hurt // she cravedshe was hurt // she cravedshe was hurt // she i hate taking // but
you bent my metal smile backwards // anyway, no hard feelings.

a blue eyed boy

afraid, i held his hand.
i have tried to unpick you;
my throat of wax, kiss build-up.

a wasp sting on my neck
i have lost count of all your orgasms
pooling into my palms,

in every orifice of my weathered carcass,
the choir bleeds from the church.
my ex calls me “chou-belle” on the phone

as a blue eyed boy laughs in the background
i fall in love with his tundra
afraid, i held his hand.

you fleeting wretch of joy.
you can of worms.

and why not?
nothing stains your gums
every time you raise your lips to me

except there is a burn.
i wet my insides for your detest
i want you to come inside me.

afraid, i held his hand.
i dried the surfaces, needed no one,
screamed rain as he stared at me.

a blue eyed boy
beat me to death with happy
until unafraid, he held my hand.

i keep colouring us grey

–  you’re the last petal on this daisy.

don’t know the truth hanging on your lip
just keep colouring us grey.

in the bar i punch you
in the bed i hum you

to shake off the guy in my hair
to be a fragile girl sucking her heart like a dummy.

tomorrow you’re reading a book
i’ll not really notice

but see you smoking outside
i’ll die in my own arms

broken bits of stars in my eyes
you’d smile that smile you give

in awe
in pensive mood

just keep colouring us grey.
can’t shade us cerulean over beer sex and feminism

can’t give you violet with fat joints and doorstep kisses
can’t stream emerald on our carcasses

we’re boys night out and your blonde hairs on my fur coat
we’re pool tables and the smell of your apartment on my jeans

your grey
my arch

vomiting rain day by day
your eyes stained of cloud

no i couldn’t cry at all
yes i could burn away tomorrow

–  i’m the last daisy in this field.

and you love me not as i love you
and you love me as i love you not.

and from time to time, you will think of me

i remember that look. the smile that carved out gold from my tears.
the twitch and fold of our limbs.

i was always too cold.
you were always too warm.

lie naked
undrugged, sober, a box of maltesers rattling at our feet.

no one kisses me like you do.
no one cools me like you do.

a piece of sky slithers down my back
somewhere, that same piece of sky has drifted over you.

and we are breathing the same air.
and sometimes our hearts are falling to the same beat.

and from time to time, you will think of me
as that creature of hungry love.

my tongue is shattered, it cannot talk.
my sad eyes tilting the shade of you.

i remember that look. the stare that bent the moon in half.
and our bed, haven ground for hard breathing.

i was always too cold.
you were always too warm.

and from time to time, you will think of me.

and from time to time, i will think of you.

the big comedown

used to listen to youth a long time back.
fourteen. balling the moon up in my fists.
a pub closes down
my guts are uncertain. boiling.
i am ready to lose my virginity.

feel tired in his arms.
carry me to bed. seventeen.
heart a little more alive
rosebud at the edge of noon.
it might be a dandelion. who knows?

blowing away my scars.
i used to drag the point of a compass
across my stomach
just to fill the silence in my bedroom
as i toss pills back.

he asks what kind of pills
and my salty fingers fish up some rennie.
and a half eaten box of sushi.
a daughter licking out the wax of a candle.
i chewed grass my dog pissed on.

and didn’t know.
the ground is deaf to my footsteps.
water fails to touch me.
a raindrop on my sore back.
a porn video left by my best friend’s dad.

blot clots stuck around my nose.
nineteen. hollow pit
and shakes in the shower.
Elvis gets his groove on
as i try to find my last period.

hair loss. my mother sweeps the ocean off my face.
sweat harassing me.
i find my debit card and chop.
the airport never notices my sullenness.
i groan.

my body clears the cuts.
i am unspeakable.

i’m only good for the cigarettes in my pocket

someone puts a spoon in me and stirs.
i am piccadilly circus on amphetamines
the alcohol gurgling in my eyes

i go to the bathroom, i throw up
the boys help themselves to my cigarettes,
to my self-respect, but they don’t even know it.

and i can’t help but wish
someone was holding my hair behind my neck right now
to stop my mistakes sticking between the strands

and a heavy heart of disgrace
as a friend blames me in his slurry state
for getting kicked out of a lock in we weren’t invited to

there’s coke on my shoulders
and a kid inside my bones wailing to get out
i think of the freesias my mother gave me for my birthday

and shiver
because i have lost the Barbie girl in me
who loves daisies and swings and orange juice

this woman threatens me in the mirror,
she gets afraid of the confronting night
and storms out of the apartment, angry,

that she’s only good for the cigarettes in her pocket
and that she shares nothing
but all of herself

to wasted thursdays under the glare of red wine
and abuse from people who don’t even ask her
where the hell she comes from

but spill their pride like cum all over her face
and tell her to clean up
and tell her to bleach away the bruises speckling her smile.

i never saw such a woman.
but she wore six inch boots and fur coats
and she scared me.

the hours gloop down my throat
and so i give up on people
and so i quit smoking.

the landlord is giving u ur notice

clean it. clean the floor.
kings of leon and the bacon clubhouse double
medium meal
the faded ginger around the corners of popped eyes
sticking lemon in hot water
waiting for the change and crash
pills crushed on ur settee
radioactive meals, stolen shampoo
quiet evening, planet party, sunset comedown
worth it too
swallowed, sniffed a way to brain death
the damage like broken glass around the bed

still though, there’s some oxygen in ur lungs
and a box of chicken wings next to ur new eyeshadow palette.

crying in the elevator

mike why’d you have to go n do this to me?
15 minutes into my life and i was staring my mother out

but she won.

and it’s not like it’s some kind of competition but
the capacity to make a man’s eyes water
as he holds his hooch from across the bar

is absolutely delicious.

mike i’m crying in the elevator
with a pizza crust sat like a sad smile
in the bottom of my stomach.

mike i told you
humans are the biggest oxymoron in existence
which makes us amazing

but such a pain in the arse.

i don’t like winning anymore
and so men who settle the score with me
i adore,

cos my heart was decapitated from a head of kisses
that many fucks ago an ex gave me
and he told me, he told me,

you’re amazing, lymh

and he calls me baby and hands me cake like dummies
for i am sickly
and cannot quite manage hangovers as i could 3 weeks ago

i drink to remember what it felt like kissing jäger off his dirty t-shirt
and i drink to remember what a lovely curse i’ve been given
that sucking cocks just isn’t fun anymore

and that i hate the sound of my own voice in seminars

15 minutes into my life mike

my ex was holding my hair behind my neck
wet from the rain

marry me, you shit

what kind of a man drinks hooch
and what kind of a man proposes after a 2am argument as i vomit,
howling tears to the moon?

i dunno mike.

but i’m still crying in this elevator cos of you.