Salad Days

Dank murky bastard,
Bleached eyelids stripped in white,
And lazily lifting in the sun,
I'll show him.

They burn halos into greats like him,
Scarred with brilliance.
He might be in the spotlight,
But I control the shadows.

Important Update

Little telly marines,
Tossing out toy explosions,
In a city,
8 by 12 inches wide.

Two tiny beings,
A man and a women,
In cute suits,
Told me that it’s hurting my country,
And my pocket.

But nothing’s changed in my
Big world.

Through my infinite eyes,
The sky just pushes further.

Swept.

Rags clenched knowingly as our feet scratch down the street,
Premature December’s whips are so cruel;
They prick you then tease and lick you at your cheeks.
And as she looks at her feet,
I look at the bass like bubble of breath billowing,
Being swallowed by the opening in front of me.
The tongue of the night is all I see.
And as she breathes heavy,
So closes a heavy unhesitant door,
Four scared rabbits rush so quickly,
Wrapping a sheet of arms around each other.
It’s a present which lies best unopened.

Hit the bed, hit me and I adore,
That nothing rhymes anymore.

Painted Rainbow

Earthen trail of slimy goo
I smear it on your cheeks like rouge
Eyes of red and lips of blue
Its cold and safe inside of you

Wolf

A white head over two pale mountains, howling through the kitchen window.
She shakes in under pastel coloured cotton sheets. Those little brittle nails,
rattle and battle and yearn to hold still.
One slim, slithered curtain, like a finger over an eye in front of fear, wraps itself open to the sky.


But then, it's just nerves, she'll get over it.

I said.

It's happiness,
but a different type of happiness sung.

It's like, yeah we can do this, we can help everyone,
and we got all the time in the world.

We're gunna get it done. The air is crisp im told,

sure it's got poison floatin around in it,

but we'll fix it, i'm sure we will.

It's not happiness, like that of a drug hit,

where you're so numb, or so pumped,

that nothing matters apart from critical bliss.

You silence ugly things like this.

But today i called them over,

and we played darts,

and we called this whole thing off.


Then my eyes flickered and my neck stopped moving.

Dull Sirens

I'm running through poor fire,

Sprinting like an angel on his knees,

Spitting out love like a liar.

I hate how you do this to me.

Don't look at me.

I am Malachy.

This is my fallacy.

Grave.

cheeks turned away,

as the world falls down.

the womens scratchy underwear left on my bed,

but im here already.

When i smoke that cigarette out of the window,

all of london is lonely.

"You know Abba, they were a bunch of skinheads"

So we lay, in the bed of opium,
Heroin man go away,
this room is too far to place.
I want a island with a quilt of my own,
Content and far madness were left at home.
The snow always seems good,
but theres always those,
who know that it will turn slush.
Pave the walls with slush.
A ticket for a roller coaster.
Every 40 seconds is filled with the most intimate fear.

Later that day I got out.

This thing so beautiful said it loved me.

Entertainment was a dream from your imagination,

Why not stick with imagination.

We can do anything; a bed

Some heat, a pill.

Cherry Coke

He was gum, dumb and blue with nothing to do.

Spat up and spittened out, inside out without a doubt.

Why did you become a lawyer honey? You think you're in the money?


Stricken down when he found her but still above a Maccy D counter.

Glad I didn't do that, laze and graze, i'm working for all the food in the world,

So i'm told...

But darling, it's been 11 years, and no fears, but i'm thinking,

for all the wine we're drinking

Isn't there something so warm about coming home to a cold bed?

Im in works, a suit of rough armour,

Crackled shins, sticking through and tight ruzzled beard.

Interior haze won't dance in sunglasses anymore.

Days daze and amaze twenty people at every

sight, moonlight

and wrong.

It’s in my heart, but it's not a song.




That’s what I say, and she stays and comforts me. Morning wakes up next to her from the night before. She strokes my hand, I let her, because I’m still dumb. How would she understand.

.

I didn't know you could read this well.