I also dreamt I was an underwear model for Snoop Dogg

•  23 April 2012  •  2 notes

I dreamt I was in an STD testing unit by myself in a montage to New Order’s ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’

(That’s the last time I get merry at an ‘80’s themed pub quiz)

•  23 April 2012  •  1 note

Enraptured tendrils drape across her sleep.

Alerting me throughout the lamp that stares

so blankly in the face, this shall not keep

me hiding my grin, stolen in the stairs

that we have toiled over, in this wake

of sparseness far between each shuddering.

It left to find her constant call of “break”

may spindle expectation, reckoning.

We wait for office to come to pass

but have not I a trophy to be bragged.

To swallow my own shallow tinted glass

despite late ponderings of care have lagged;

never before. This consultation dumb,

the forms of which I never strive to see:

these hopes that beat within me as the drum

Emerging from my breadth a glisten-sheen.

I often find my poetry gets worse

the more you insist on ending my curse.

•  4 April 2012

So now we are seeing for looking,
yet looking I now cannot see.
My yearning is much to this fucking
but more than fucking I can be.
I can be right there now beside you;
beside you, I ride you and kiss,
I kiss down your side and deride you
when you say I can’t be more than this.
Yet more than this I know you’re mine now,
and mine now continue to be
because if I cannot continue,
continue not I will to see.
And if then, there, I will not see you,
I won’t see you then, I’ll say “FUCK”,
‘cause, fucking you is what I want now
but now I can’t even just look.

•  4 April 2012

When it’s time to cider we will always cider hard (Taken with instagram)

•  3 April 2012

Solid towels are stitched around your chest,
our encounters multiply in coyness.
Tea fixes these crying fits, mine the best,
cradled in my trembling hands, duress
I’ve planted for myself to forget past
raptured revelation relation tweaks
throng together lucid swarms (guilt won’t last).
As we roar and screech in this brave peak,
stroking the epicentre of your scalp,
I condone all manner of notion fleet.
We look like crazy people, asked for help,
trundling to our startling start-retreat.
I know you’re scared - you have more right to be.
But you’re the light I no longer feign to see.

•  9 March 2012  •  1 note

I looked up and the ‘scrapers crowded round,

each bowed to inquire of me.
Some even dared question my morality;
one asked “Why,
why, oh, fucking why?”

Apparently tonight was a problem
and the tunnel, closed until six,
hours on hand, curtains to pre-occupy a smoking engineer.

That sky a musty velvet,
I contemplate throwing myself under the Jubilee

for what I said earlier,
the very kill-words of a friendship’s honeymoon

and I stalk empty Isle of Dogs
wishing to Christ one of these fables spring from horizon
to gorge on my superfluous jaw.

Seventeen pence bitter bottled water
nearly leaves me stumbling in front of
a twenty-four hour shelf-stacker, cackling,
“Why, why, why?”

The glass-concrete Gods judge my love in the Wharf.

•  28 February 2012  •  1 note

I dreamt I fist-bumped Charlie Sheen in my old school canteen

I told him to try the BBQ Burger

•  23 February 2012  •  1 note

I dreamt you were mine

before being frantically chased by a sweaty fat man

•  22 February 2012  •  4 notes

I hadn’t reclusive options at the time

Raucous, veracious options and
Endless, scraping chords

All I’m worth is options and never opportunities
The Direct Debits are howling at the door

A long-running collaboration with cheap polyester
High street hovering and
Charity shop channeling

When I give my all
You receive what you want

Stigmatic caps
Uninterested condoms reside in the bathroom cabinet
An entire weekend of bad DVDs
to rinse me of stress

Distract me of debt, I bore myself

Snotty glimpses
of your vignetted ’60s nails
bitten to the quick
by a mouth too educated
to place around me

I am not a beast/man
I am an insect
no one will crush

Here last year except tentimesworse through a broken siphon of remittanceresentremorseremoval of all things greatgoodghastly were those minutesmonthsmoments of

everywhere
that
I
fucking
went

I give that a six point two personally,
gotta love that three-minute rule 

•  21 February 2012  •  3 notes