Saturday, 15 January 2011

Flying Fish

Trapped in our fanciful fishbowl,
Painted a perfect sky blue.
Stripped at night and everybody is fixed to the sky,
For just mere little pricks of light.
Oh, little me
The glorious fly by.
And the tunnels that they spin devour us,
And the impossible infinity they could hold-
It's enough to make a fish want to fly.

Friday, 14 January 2011


Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck
There it goes again, tenderly teetering on the edge of sanity-
The fragile little flicks of life.

And back, back, back again
It's not the sickening sway of butterflies playing on my pulse-
But a couple of hot dreams.

As I roll, roll, roll away
Run off the pages and hide myself under the folds of his skin-
Hide from the possibilities.

Thursday, 6 January 2011

Mirror In My Music Box

I saw something today,
Made my mind cling onto a scrap of driftwood and float far far away.

The ridges of the cliffs on my jeweled isle
Have etched themselves into my cheeks, and I see cracks forming beside the waves.

A plastic figure swims upon the silver sea
Of brand new treasures, of each tender young memory clinging to salty purple shores.

She croaks out a siren's sad song,
The rhythm of my mind beating out the same broken blues I'd never forget.

Tattoos collected under my eyes cry and
The ink runs off my eyelashes, because she can't know the vague patterns on my skin.

A midnight sky tucks the fantasy into bed,
And who would have thought how many expectations you could hide under a golden clasp?

There they are. Here I am.

I saw something today, 
Made my mind cling onto a scrap of driftwood and float far far away.