You Will Never Touch My Sister Again.

I don’t care what lies you told the police
What half truths you disguised to get released.

I don’t care that Mum welcomed back into our home
That your punishment was a new mobile phone.

I don’t care that her disability means she doesn’t understand
That she doesn’t know the seriousness of where you put your filthy hands.

I don’t care that everyone believed she led you on
Because there’s no way mummy’s little boy would be in the wrong.

I don’t care that every minute of every stinking day
I get flashbacks, your bodies contorted in new disgusting ways.

It was worth any pain that I may have endured
That my baby sister’s safety will always be ensured.

Everyone else has believed your twisted fucked up lies,
But I will be here, watching you, until the day I die.

Weed Killer

That moment when you've taken all the pills and are just waiting:

Waiting is possibly the hardest part;
Engaged to the reaper, he owns my heart.
Estimating when he’ll grant my last beat
Deathly promise to make my life complete.
Killing the time while the temperature grows,
Inside my body the tainted blood flows.
Lights spot before me in the thick air
Lie down, eyes shut, feel it everywhere-
Ever quiet, as unconsciousness creeps
Round to my room, now forever I’ll sleep.

A Writer's Block

Chewing on pre-bitten biro lids,
Shouting at next door’s noisy kids.

Tearing up another empty sheet,
Finishing yesterday’s shredded wheat.

Trying to evoke all your deepest fears,
But secretly googling Britney Spears;

Four months later and all you’ve got
is a notebook full of Writer’s Block.

Slobbing out to hours of day-time telly,
Dreaming of being the next Keats or Shelley.

Deciding the house needs a total spring clean,
Reciting Lord Tennyson with Mr Sheen.

Finding yet more, responsibility to shirk,
Pouring over someone else’s ‘Collected Work’;

Eight months later and all you’ve got
is another notebook of Writer’s Block.

Getting so drunk your speech becomes slurred,
Scouring the dictionary to find a new word.

Taking trips to the river to feel inspired
Only to find your talent’s expired.

Aimlessly seeking out park or station
Determined to make some cheap observation;

A whole year later and all you’ve got
is a life made up of Writer’s Block.