Little Rivers

Prudent

Customised, but ill inspired. 
Standardised to something lower
Than your heightened brows, your gawking, 
Vast, pacific pupils.  
Arm horizon, juxtaposed
And flattened; cliff face, fumeroles. 
Sheer but short, a seal of hope 
In wilting, ‘voiding glance. 
 

Jack

Honoured and respected by inebriated smile, touch my 
Ligaments and toss me ‘round the room. This is
Everything to me, a strobe, a shaking forest fire, pulse and 
Envy, stay, you’ve no competition. 

Momentary.
We are hairs that brush beside
The other’s structure. 
Pardon me, but this is public,
Stay reserved.
You are sweating like a stripper, but the
Heat of leg and light melts me away. 

Take me home. 
 

Stormy Lover, Inside I Died

There’s some lines in the sand that I drew with the spade
That I dug my own grave with, the depths I have made
From my worry. The heart and the liver and lungs
That float in the sea water drowning my tongue.
If I could still move, I would wrap it ‘round you,
And will you to know that, with all that I do,
I cannot let you go. The heights and the heavens
Of worlds upon worlds in our galaxy’s beckoning
Peace. It’s not yet a war, but the pain
Is so deep, so solemn, a funeral may
Come to mind. Hold fast, hold tight and keep screaming
So I know you’re alive, that I’ve you to believe in.  

Funeral

I’d know a funeral by paragraphs of broken sighs
After all, nothing says goodbye like one of Jesus’ lines;
“For everything there is a season, time, a purpose too.”
I’m not a holy man, I’ve never been your friend, it’s true.

You tasted bitter from the wine and sour bread you’d chew
I saw your spine collapse, the shoes and skin your heart outgrew.
And on your knees you’d kiss the feet of men in black and white,
Pretend you still have faith; you’re humbled and it feels just fine.  

I’m Not Tired, I’m Lethargic

(lyrics - demo below)

Pink. The evergreens are glowing in the dark, the sheen of something similar to sparks in my head.
Slide the skin of what you call your hands on my back and shoulders, reaching lower thigh. Warm up, warm and dry.

I’m not tired, I’m lethargic; medically inspired.
I’m not your target; red is for desire.
I’m not fucking retarded, I know when I have lost.
Nail me to your bending wooden cross

Ice. Your fingerprints are burning on my sides, pelvises and ribcages collide - puzzled sigh.
And reach far beyond the rows of pointed teeth and pick a thought that’s pushing on my knees. All will see.

I’m not tired I’m lethargic; medically inspired.
I’m not your target; red is for desire.
I’m not fucking retarded, I know when I have lost.
Pull my weight? I’ll drag my skin across.  

You’ll never know

I’m not drunk, I’m lethargic; medically prescribed.
I’m not your target, now is not the time.
I’m not hollow hearted, I feel something inside.
Sit up straight and watch the world go by.