Standing at the concrete wall
At the lookout spot at the top of the Conor Pass,
Your hair a mess of copper wires
Caught by the wind,
You remarked on the
Shadows of the clouds
Moving across the sky and
Blocking out the sunlight.
I like to think that you were the sunlight.
But does that make me the clouds?
Were we the wind?
Is now the shadows?
You left
All this stuff at my house.
Does it have some significance?
What does a toothbrush mean?
This body scrub looks expensive.
Don’t you care about these socks?
Their mouse faces like distorted grins.
Or is it that you fear that I could
Hold something over you through them?
How can facial wipes remind you of a person?
How can they not?
It’s not that I resent it;
I don’t know how to be angry with you.
But this towel still smells like you,
Your pair of slippers are still lying by the door
And I don’t know what to do.
And then quite unlike the
Way in which she left,
The muse returned.
I knew I was in trouble first
When I woke to the
Thought of her
In green and navy pajamas,
Hair a golden mess,
Carrying a tray of tea and toast slices.
The dress that I saw,
A shimmering grey
A pale mint
That was no longer
Behind the shop glass but
Twirling around flower beds
Above a pair of bare feet,
Was a bad sign to be sure.
And it is now that I find myself
Lying awake deep into the night, Biting into my pillow
And cursing myself,
That I know the real battle
Has only just begun.
Outside the car
In the dark of this November night
The wind howls.
That old familiar wolf call
Whistles and twists above me.
But I am deaf to it
And to the encroaching cold
That seeps into the cabin.
I am trapped
In a bubble of you
3 feet in every direction.
Still. Calm.
Wretched.
Eyes flicker back and forth.
The odd word rings out.
The quiet tears that I cry
Are not my own.
They are yours.
They belong to you
Still.
The bass of the car stereo
Drones, dies and hums static.
It drags me back to reality.
Drowns me in the stuff.
I take a deep breath and a moment
To work up the courage
To get out and open the gate.
Since you
Opened your mouth
And spoke
those few words
I have lost my sense of taste.
Gone.
Isn’t it odd.
Not that much would taste sweet anymore
Anyway.
I remember the moment exactly
(Imagine that if you can)
When it happened.
You had just looked up
And said
‘Ben?’
In a questioning tone
And as I didn’t quite know
What to say,
Or how for that matter,
I didn’t.
I just sat
Close-mouthed
But perfectly dry-tongued
As clouds gathered across the
Darkening London sky above.
Sometimes I notice
That I forget certain
Words.
Or can no longer
Put
One
Beside
Another.
But that comes and goes.
Also
I should mention
Since then,
That hour,
I have been unable to see
The colour purple,
Certain shades of green,
Pink altogether,
Or black,
Although only when paired with
A bright despairing red.
Funny how such words
Such few words
Can have left me
So very
Empty.
Please
Don’t speak them to me again.
A circle of salt
With me sitting cross legged at its centre,
Crosses scored into the backs of my hands.
Eyes burn red
from salty sleepless nights.
I see the blood chug
Thick through the capillaries.
Outside the circle the night
Like a wall of static sound
Dark and blatant
Encroaches
Deafeningly loud.
Some days the world heaps itself on top of you.
It pulls at the strands of your hair and rasps
its uncut nails over your semi-healed wounds
Snagging at the scabs and leaving little
Snail trails of your own half dried blood.
Some nights the world leaches into your life
Like an ocean of sand
Grain by blistering grain
Hot and slow
Until you are completely dry
And devoid of hope.
At those times I close my eyes,
Hum quietly to no one
And try and convince myself
That you are worth it.
In the northern lands
Of ice and snow
Where the winds are born
You made your presence known
Among my thoughts.
Your eyes glowed behind my own,
Like shards of brilliant blue ice.
Your necklace strung with
Glimmering Germanic teeth.
‘You smile too much’
You stated solemnly,
Matter of fact.
‘I will take now what you owe me’
Toothless it seemed,
and thoughtless too,
I wandered for days,
In the heartland of the
Shiver and the prayer for
Safe return.
I gritted my blooded gums
And steeled my breath.
I feared we would not last the night.
I blow hot and cold into the night.
All these shelves are full of cobweb covered photo albums.
I pull them down and rifle through my mind.
Fingernails properly groomed,
I empty my love into you.
For one night at least.
But I awake to find a different person
With veiled, shaded eyes.
Fingers reach out to greet you
And then retreat
out of what? Fear?
You walk so forlornly down narrow country roads,
Dragging your baggage along behind you.
Eyes fixed firmly on the sky
You tell me to stop following you.
I can’t help feeling
That if I could only stop feeling
Then this would all make
So much more sense to me.
But instead I scratch my head
And draw a line in the sand.
A line that will not be crossed.
Something is very wrong.
In my mind thoughts are clear
And lucidly float behind my eyes.
I can feel soft words,
Some of them for you,
Dangling from my fingertips,
Hiding in the drowned spaces
between my glistening teeth.
But up close this mirror
Is muddied and scratched
With fingernail marks and
Something closely resembling
My very own brand
Of unsettling bullshit.
My tongue drips sour,
The saliva frothing and bursting
And steadily becoming
More embittered and lonesome.
Suddenly there are things
That I can no longer impart,
Not nearly so readily at least.
These problems course
Through my arteries and veins,
Through the skin on the
Back of my hands,
Along the bloodlines
That feed my brain,
My arrow-filled mind.
They lead me to believe
That some creatures were designed
To break with natures bonds.
And perhaps we will always blame others
For what we refuse to believe.
Or hate ourselves
For what we know to be true.
Walking past tunnel entrances
That lead down to sea I imagine
Giant dark throats opening to
Swallow me wholly down.
I feel like a mouth full of broken glass.
Numbers written all over my hands,
I frantically pass them in front of my face.
This steady rain is treason on my
Shoulders. It is unwelcome flattery
On the back of my neck and down the
Inside of my coat collar.
Through the web of raindrops,
This tapestry of tears,
The lights make the world
Shimmery and effervescent.
Something to be cherished or despaired.
And I find myself down at the shoreline,
The water frothing and churning around
My ankles, lapping up the back of my calves.
The moon sways on the seas surface.
I plunge deep into the saturnine sky.
I am lost.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 