The Reason The Willow Weeps

It weeps for you late at night, when sleep does not come easily. It weeps for the one you miss. It weeps for the dreams on the tips of your fingers. It weeps for appointments missed and it weeps for the tears in your pillow. It weeps for the silence and it weeps for the noise. It weeps for formal letters where once, language was spoken as close to your ear as possible. It weeps for betrayal, intended or not. It weeps for the friends you once were. It weeps for the colours faded. It weeps for sunrise. It weeps for a death in the family and it weeps when a baby is born. It weeps for the last time you touched. It weeps for words that can never be taken back. It weeps so hard and so much and so often. So you don't have to. So you can carry on. It weeps for you. When you have run out of weeping.

The Fragments Belong Together

Things just break sometimes. Maybe we should blame that third person we became, that personality we shared together. Maybe it's their fault because you're a good person and I think I'm a good person too. We just weren't made for this.

The Glitter Phoenix Burns Again

I won't compose prose every morning you open your eyes next to me (I won't compare you to a summer's day).

I won't kiss the tears from your cheeks whenever you cry.

I won't remember every appointment.

I won't keep the sheen on my armour.

I won't know what to say sometimes.

I won't get your order right.

I'll be late.

I'll fuck-up.

But I'll write something for you when you least expect it (in summer or winter).

But I'll hold you as tight as I can whenever I can.

But I'll burst through the door as soon as I remember.

But I'll polish it until it shines again.

But I'll say something anyway.

But I'll go back and make it right.

But I'll get there.

But I'll try.

The Air In My Blood

You think I'm doing this to be romantic. Standing in public spaces and airing my heart out, oxygen in the blood and all that never was. I'm not doing it to be romantic. I'm doing it because it's fucking necessary.

The Close And The Nearly

Something has moved and bumped the cradle of everything. The world is out of sync. Birds fly backwards and the fish swim through the air. Hours pass like seconds and seconds pass like hours. The light fades before the sun leaves. The stars shine before the night falls. I am here early. You are here late.

The Sparks In The Ceiling

The sky was made so clear that sometimes, at night, you can see the far blue edge of forever behind distant suns. Yet, nothing's that clear here, and I'm sitting right next to you.

The Return To Green

Oh shut up. Every time it rains, it stops raining. Every time you hurt, you heal. After darkness, there is always light and you get reminded of this every morning but still you choose to believe that the night will last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good or the bad. So you might as well smile while you're here.

The Occasional Silence

You can walk into a room and spot them. They seem fine when you talk to them but every now and again, across the room, you catch them looking off into the distance at an invisible point that maybe, they once reached. They laugh a little different. They hesitate a little more. Now they know what it feels like. And something about their eyes when they listen to music says

"Turn it up until my ears bleed. Let it be the last thing I hear."

The Circle, Triangle, Square

If you've got the time, we can play a game. It’s easy. We just see if I’m the same shape as the space you have inside you. If everything fits, we both win. If it doesn’t, don’t force it. That's how you get splinters in your heart.

The Ill At Easel

This is not where art and commerce meet. This is where commerce slips something in art's drink. Steel coffins, gears grinding with glee. There's space on the conveyor belt for one more. This one's old and rusted, jaded and the green has faded. We need more bright dreams to sell. Who knows. It could be you.

The Ghost Of Too Much

There's not enough soil in the earth for how deep I want to be buried.
There's not enough water in the oceans for how slowly I want to sink.
There's not enough fire in the sun for how brightly I want to burn.
There aren't enough words in my head to say all the things I can't.
There's not enough blood in my body for all I need to bleed.
There's aren't enough couches in the world for how long I want to sleep.
There's not enough life in me, for all I want to live.
All I've had enough of, is you.

The Killing Of Tiny Numbers

You were my friends and I had the best times of my life with you. But these days, all this, all the stars you reached for, all the things you ached for, you've got them and you don't even know it. And all your fulfilled dreams have made you do, is try and rip each other to pieces. Your hopes dipped in bitterness. That's why I hate it.

The Rules Of Engagement

All persons entering a heart do so at their own risk. Management can and will be held responsible for any loss, love, theft, ambition or personal injury. Please take care of your belongings. Please take care of the way you look at me. No roller skating, kissing, smoking, fingers through hair, 3am phone calls, stained letters, littering, unfeeling feelings, a smell left on a pillow, doors slammed, lyrics whispered, or loitering. Thank you.

The Right To Wear Name Tags

These aren't consumers.
They're people.
These aren't foreigners.
They're people.
These aren't civilians.
They're people.
These are people.
They are people.
And one on their own is a person.
Just like you.

The Slight Pinch

You and I could collide, like atoms in some scientist's wet dream. We could start a new universe together. We could mix like a disease. And if we do, I hope we never get better.

The Bibliography Of Strings

And you taught me what this feels like.
And then how it feels to lose it.
And you showed me who I wanted.
And then who I wasn't.
And you ticked every box.
And then drew a line.
And you weren't mine to begin with.
And then not to end with.
And you looked like everything I wanted.
And then became something I hated.
And you get thought of every day.
And then not in a good way.
And you let me leave.
And then wish I'd stayed.
And you almost killed me.
But I didn't die.

The Perfect Apathy

You remember and dwell on all the things you've lost and ignore all the things you haven't. Because your scars are like stars. Yet the night stays perfectly black.

The Chaos Afterwards

When the electricity fades and only lightning remains and we've drunk the last drop of dead dinosaur blood (sincerely, delicious) and we're forced to run outside into the streets, you and I will yell out aliases and call signs like fighter pilots falling. Because we don't know each other's real names.

The Frozen Heart Of A Comet

You became what you thought everyone wanted you to be. But that's not who you are. And that's who I wish you were.

The New Strangers

You know we could go. Everyone talks with an accent somewhere.

The Way You Lie Here

Don't you dare tell me nothing matters. Everything matters. Every fucking drop of rain, every ray of sunlight, every wisp of cloud matters and they matter because I can see them and if I can see them then they can see me and I know that there's an entire world that cares out there, hiding behind a world that doesn't, afraid to show who it really is and with or without you, I will drag that world out of the dirt and the blood and the muck until we live in it. Until we all live in it.