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.

Apology

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.

The Lines On A Page

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

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.

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.

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.

The Negative Space

If you missed me saying it, I miss you.