not finished

How do you pick out a life splinter?
Is it possible at such an age, to cultivate self-belief?
It's winter, now, and I've been thinking,
for seasons-on-end, just thinking.
For instance, I think, this lady does procrastinate too much.

Why else does she collect notebooks, and fill them with her stars?
writing no-sense after daydream, and add a few pipes to those
I can't stomach all this navel-gazing
such extraordinary self-indulgence must be seen to be believed

hugging my childhood

in my arms
the canine glove puppet
his lumpy head and long black ears
his worried eyebrows
sewn inside, a squeak

this year, Dad bought me, on impulse, a new Sweep. My first love was Sweep, I believe. I don't remember being given a sweep, as a child, I just remember the little glove puppet, his fur hugged off, and how I took him everywhere with me.
When I unwrapped him on christmas day, all the love came back. I'm 34.

senryu?

on automatic
her hand reaches down
for the chocolate box

Molly

she
looks at me with her bright eyes
an unearthly glow
so much power inside her small body
she
holds me to her chest
pressing her face against mine
she
gifted me with her trust
a simple basic trust
that cut through the complex bullshit of the human mind

mostly black and blue me and you
we have tried many times to be new
is it me not working right
and not just you?
we came to a spluttering stop and our light slowly faded out.

i am sorry you are broken i am sorry for your hurts and burdens
but your hurts have made new wounds in me.
instead of banking your pain you have spread it.
you were wrong.
and i was wrong to stay.
collecting battle scars like i wanted them.

trouble

i have a break all down my centre
splitting the parts
i have a break all down my side
all across my back
all through my facets there is a fault set in me deep
i find myself to be faulty
all across my back
a fault line faultline
through my facets a faultline
immeasurable and impossible to fix
in me deep i find myself to be faultless
a fault set me on my path
set me on my precarious path
i was set to fail
my fault finds me deep
all across my back
all across my back

a deep faultline set me precariously faultless

she sits safely
scattering pieces
of her mind behind
the wheels of the car

the man

a masculine being
his actions influenced
by his anatomy

six years

i burned my fingers
on my man
six years long

a sea of water
to put me out

singed my hair
my face
black with soot

i burned so long

i am a pile of glowing embers
fuel almost gone
soon to blow as ashes on the breeze

the addict

i am the supplier
i am the dog he kicks
when the world hurts
he turns his anger on me

making the words
letter by letter
the light dims

A Man

You've just walked into the room
and sat down
now i can hardly breathe
for all the room you have taken with your ego.

why do men do that?
invade space
unfurl themselves
til there's no bloody room for anyone else

Don't take up my space
i need room to lift my lungs

Ask me to Erase

Look at my bruises
without emotion

read out 'you bruise like a peach
from your book
of twisted beliefs

Damage.
so much
you carry chaos like a burden

say my ways are unfaithful
i can't say the words you want to hear
i have no more to give

i can't tell you i will love you forever
always need more
more than anyone could ever give

always more
break your toys
and want them to work as if new
i am a broken toy

tell me you love me
but i can't make the words fit
say it like an amen
after prayer
empty of meaning
i parrot back to appease

tell me i am rotten to the core
make me feel it that it's true

bits and pieces poem

i spoonfeed a crumbling kitty

on her head a nest of dark threads

in the centre of the night

he forms a hard knot in my forehead
very difficult to undo

bits and pieces

holding her out like a little gift

i spoonfeed a crumbling kitty

walking
the silence
of the wet streets

on her head, a nest of dark threads

the 60 moons of saturn

in the centre of the night

my voice drops from my mouth like feathers

he forms a hard knot in my forehead
very difficult to undo

dark river
shallow depths

5.11.10

if a cat could just
be mended
like a sock

i would have more
than a collar and
a bell




A little bit of the warmth
that was in my life
has gone
                 with
                              that cat

in my broken house

standing in my broken house again
the spiders crawl

hiding the bruises hiding the bruises hiding the bruises
marks marr my me

fingerprints made in blood
palm to arm

do you see them do you see
all of me

do you see my scars do you see the marks
do you see my broken parts
do you see the cracks in my interior

standing in my broken house again
i hear you call