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.

An Ode to Eliot

The Love Song of A. Coloma Girl.
-Prom

Despite the jocks and their princesses,
the tanned long legs and arms white and bare-

I realise; we are all equally downed with light brown hair.

We all grow old
We all grow scared

But tonight-

Tonight, we have shared this special moment.

Whether outside, amongst the stars
where yellow smoke rings form like links in a chain-

Or indoors, where the music swells and even the sweat of the
dancefloor is tinged with joy-

This is our night.

Not theirs.
Not mine.

This soft summer night was shared and yes I dared- for together
-You and I-
We have witnessed the end.

Vacancy

Phone rings
Automatic voice: “would you like free weekend calls?”

Post comes
Take away menu: “garlic bread or dough balls?”

Text message
“Its time to top-up! From 3”

Inbox pings
“Don’t vote BNP!”

Life passes by
Today is so vague
And uninspiring.

Nothing personal, nothing gained.

But then, just one text bleeps through.
“its me, just to say,

I love you”

The Bluff

You promise to call, but you don't.
You say you'll come round, but you won’t.

It used to really get me down.
But I don’t care
At least I don’t show it- I just clown around, pretending its all ok.

What can I say?

It’s just you, the way you are.
So I accept it, paint a grin on my face and smile like my life depends on it.

The façade is so well worn
That sometimes even I
Forget.

Its what you get
When you pretend to be what you should never have been.

I’ve seen
The future- I know each twist and flow of time.

But will we survive its test?
I can’t tell now, but maybe some day.

Maybe one day.
But I am still here, so what can I say?

Drifting

For anyone who has felt the agony of unrequited love. And felt they were alone:

Must sleep;
But I’d dream of you.

Should eat;
But I won’t keep it down.

Would cry;
But it’d upset you.

You eat, you sleep, you cry.
Why do I care?