Lengthy Queue

My hips don’t lie. They only tell the truth, my dear.

Truthful Hips

Not Love At All

Cleans my canvas when I paint on too much red.

Woodland Walking

We were the same 
Ten years apart, we played
When that was all I knew
The sickness came
Five months, I wrote your name
But praying proved no use

Ungodly cruelty
Our theatre’s empty
Performance over
Because you left too soon 

Now I’m here
Just a few months off your year
But still I’ve got no clue
Caught a train
To play with children half my age
I felt like you

Ungodly cruelty
Our theatre’s empty
Performance over
Because you left too soon 

Wistful thought
A blissful pain
One day
Us both
May share this stage again

Hello

I feel I’m fleeting
Running round the bend
The end feels different
At night it twitches
Something quite alive
The pain’s in pictures

Stop thinking
The core is rotten
Stop thinking
The core is rotten

Days bleed in tandem
Try to find a cure 
I need the answer
Inside cares
I’ll be my bestest friend
Won’t break my legs

I told you
Stop thinking 
The core is rotten
I told you
Stop thinking
The core is rotten

Stop Thinking

I drink the creature
The one which scratches far itches
He’s devilish though
When sleep is better, he keeps me perky
Sometimes I drift
When looking too closely

Glazed eyes
In a room of laughter 
Force
An unwelcome cinema
Where faces come dusty
In little films of little things 
Where popcorn tastes of time before

Shows London burning
From tears
Which hollow sockets
And swell a damp smoke 
On Victoria
A man, sitting alone 
Chokes and chokes
Scanned by sorry glances 
As hands contort to hide his shame

I remember him
Those familiar eyes 
Charred by flames
Yet always blue
But as doors slide
The little man slips away
As the image shifts to something new

Under blanket of winter’s breath
Muffled bass-lines pulse red brick
To score loose chatter of heads that bob
With eyes half-closed
Some dead men dancing
They’ve still got time
But youth will go
The creatures help to dull that glow

Behind a bin, unlikely home
A corpse there lays on cobbled stone
A little rat, whose entrails spill
It’s tail still pink 
It’s mouth still open
And two pecked holes 
Where eyes were eaten

The screen goes blank
My view adjusts 
I pull the smile they always love
But as I sit 
And think upon
The little rat 
With vision gone
I wonder if its eyes were blue
Just like the man who lost his tune

Little Eyes

Don’t know where to start
This meal sits so heavy
So that is what I’ll starve
Guilt simmers so precarious
Like a tinpot on a stove
I succumb to my temptations
Tend to feel what I don’t show 

The clock strikes 4 again
Naked, pulling out my hair
Repeated patterns
Repeated patterns
T-shirts smell of smoke
Sometimes choke
Repeated patterns 
I let them happen 
Repeated patterns 
I let them happen 

Kitchen’s empty
I’m testing out some jokes
‘Bill, you’re oh so funny!’
These spoons are lovely blokes!
Burning fingers 
Fishing teabags
Damage comes with too much fun
Leaving trails
Little breadcrumbs
Wont tell you when I’m done
But I’ll look so tired 

The clock strikes 4 again
Naked, pulling out my hair
Repeated patterns
Repeated patterns
T-shirts smell of smoke
Sometimes choke
Repeated patterns 
I let them happen
Repeated patterns 
I let them happen

Repeated Patterns

I love pizza! 

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