Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Colours Of What I Have

All I want, is for you to want this.

All I need, is for you to need this.

All I have, is what I don't.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Fear Of Floating Away

That's what it feels like when you fall from great heights. That's what it feels like when your heart grows back. That's what it feels like when you don't want to feel. But this, this is just me.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The Sound Of The Sea

May I see the things in front of me as they are, not as I think them to be.

May I walk the steps ahead of me one at a time, not wondering if there's a map.

May I say the things that fix things, not break them further apart.

May I do what I need to do, not be distracted by what I can't.

May I dream of what I hope for, not of what I fear.

May I love you like I love you, not as any other, me.

Monday, August 22, 2011

The City Has A Lullaby

This is a city of sleepwalkers.
That never sleep.
Those are the sounds that pull you out of bed.
These are the hands that rock the world to sleep.
There's nothing to be afraid of in a dream.

Friday, August 19, 2011


I'd like to apologise for the lack of posts, my house was broken into last night and, amongst other things, my laptop was taken. I'm absolutely fine and I have a spare one, I'll resume writing as soon as I can.

Thank you for your patience. I miss you. I love you. I thank you.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Lines On A Page

I'd finish you if I could. But every time I try to read you, I lose my place.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The World Woke Up

Please don't open your eyes.

The world is wrong today.

I don't want you to see it.

Those dreams of burning cars, of bankers crying in the streets, of the earth shaking, they're not dreams.

Just stay warm for now.

Just for a little while now.

Before it hits.

Before it takes.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The Dangers Of Dripping Taps

The first stain happened when your hand first touched mine.

The second is black pen ink.

The third was an accident, or so everyone said.

The fourth is a burn or worse.

The fifth is the name of a feeling I made up and then wrote down.

When no one's around, I practice saying the words you'll never hear.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Blood Floods The Subway

All I ever wanted you to do was feel this feeling. Be this way. Exhale the sky.

All you ever did was feel different. Be away. Wash your hands with air.

All I love is a feeling. I still feel this way. I cannot breathe.

I still forget there's air out there.

I still forget how white hot everything was.

I still forget myself.

There's nothing wrong with this.

There's nothing true about this.

There's nothing.

You were once everything I felt.

You were once everything.

You were, once.

And if love moves like air, then teach me how to dig my nails into the palm of my hand so I can remember what you once felt like.

Monday, August 1, 2011

The Negative Space

If you missed me saying it, I miss you.