three words

There are three words I so wish to hear,
delicate words which kiss each ear so lightly
that make me smile so brightly,
three words that force people to apologise,
despise,
empathise and most of all
destabilise
their bodies from their heads
and their heads from their bodies.
hush little lady,
you’ve been so tired lately.
but
there are three words I wish to hear, and those three words are right
here:
‘I’ve bought beer.’

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concussion

green eyes;;encoding;;deciding;;sensory-consolidation[storage].green eyes;; i cannot::forget those green eyes, like two marble spheres, those green eyes, orbiting my atmosphere.[storage].”**”**’i’ve*hit*my*head………………………………………….green eyes;;encoding;;deciding;;sensory-consoldation.[storage].beautiful, beautiful green eyes.[storage].-recall-retrieval-recall-how could I ever f;f;f;forget.

A Drunken Depiction of One’s Muse

The Muse is nothing but a
man in a top hat,

Adjacent to the cigarettes
In between the spiced-rum,
Resembling a cadet
Or maybe a noble man’s son,
He sat with a top hat
Look! There he is sat,
Wait, darn it
He’s walked out of the door
and left his top hat where he was sat,
Who on earth,
would forget such a fine hat?

The Muse is just another silly man in a top hat.

Deconstruction

I am the architect of my own destruction.

I am the mechanic of my own cell.

I am the nurse of my own construction.

I am the doctor of my own Hell.

I am the psychologist of my own brain.

I am the leader of my own team,

I am the survivor my own name.

I am the character in my own dream.

 

I am your artist.

La Dolce Far Niente

The tapping of two toes to the beat of your heart
A smoky smell of a blown-out candle,
The gentle ‘flick’ of the light switch
closing your eyes.

Listening to the piano keys type out the melody
of your myriad of memories,
of last Monday when you let the breeze kiss the nape
of your neck and caress your core,
the soul is forever yearning for more
lusting to quench the burning thirst
to be.

‘La dolce far niente my bluebell,
you’re scared, I can tell
but let the flame burn down
and take off Ambition’s crown
for just a few moments,
forget of the components
and drift with me through eternity’

[…]

to simmer in the delicate sweetness
of nothing.
is to be.

Mosiac

I can see you blush.
awkwardly, rosy pinks
when I lift a finger to hush
your heart, it sinks
into a pool of honey
tile. by, tile. I build a mosaic
of you from my eyes
like an equation, algebraic
your body cannot hide lies,
from an artist
who creates for your attention,
perhaps not the smartest
but relies on her comprehension
of the space around your skin,
you are her only sin,
as she loses herself within.

 

Drunken Lady Lavender

 

Lady Lavender’s Lover

We were just two lovers with a ribcage between us, chords that ooze into my blood of the sound; ‘my little lady lavender, you must remember that the daffodils will remain yellow against the blue skies throughout the angry storms. The petals may fall but the energy is there through the hum of the bees and whisper of the trees. The branches that fed the heart is still growing by day my love, so brush past through the nettles and stamp on those black thorns. Reach your roots as far as they go and lead your lover like antelopes into the sunset.’

For your head is tired and needs to be led.

But oh, little Lady lavender you hold a fruit in your hand
A segment of satisfaction,
I give thee to you to experience the zest,
the zeal of zing.

Then you may rest your head and let what is be, said.