Pull You Closer To My Heart

My appetite is swelling to gargantuan proportions
As I keep my gaze deadlocked on the clouds passing through the skies
Each second the clock strikes, feels like a little victory
I’m a caged leviathan ready to feel the sand on my belly again

It feels like a silly to infer
When you’re raised from a bud with the ideals of the city
But I never feel like I’m really alive, if I’m not surrounded
By these Mediterranean concepts sugar coated by rural gumdrops
These come in form of makeshift cafes, funded by a failed college fund
and neon clad penny munchers ready resurrect a dying youth
It’s clear I was made to act out my golden days here
I was born to live and die fantasising about the beach

There’d be no shame in indulging in this fantasy idealism
Of interpreting the coastal slums and rotting back alleyways
Into sun kissed pathways of golden bricks and Dali graffiti tags
As a solo exhibition, but I could use a witness
I hope they unlock the collar from your neck
I hope your mind is prepared for the barrage of eyes
I know you’re not always free to frolic when the landing lights blaze
I just want to cement your presence in my dream days

I can show you the soiled patios down the side of the corner shop
Where decade old fossils of fictitious duels of cardboard knights
And invisible dragons took place all I like
But you’ll never get any closer to origins of my ecstasy
Then on a windy noon in the middle of spring
Just past the claw’s and the Ice Cream vendors

Technical Forfeit

*Another one I wrote when I was a littlun found in an old college notebook from… I’m guessing I was 19?*

The glimmer of the screen on a Thursday afternoon
The burn of my skin as the projection seeps in
Drenched in a sea of anxity as the clock ticks
It’s only a matter of time untill we’re done for

She can’t undertsand the burden of the schedule
The fatcats havn’t prossesed the transition
I wish i could shower you with tickets and promises
But the accounts as empty as my heart

If the connections become severed you need to act
Send her a messege, send her a code, send her a reply
Cos if you don’t she will tear you appart from the inside
And the moment shall only be postponed

You must let the technical use you, you can’t let feeling win
You must know the technical, it can only know
Feeling will lie, feelings on her side, don’t forfit by default
You can’t lose on technicality, it’s all you’ve got now

A words like art are objective in this world
I would murder for the one chance to explain with words
Text is a mere image i can’t explain it anymore so
The divide shall only grow in time, interpritation is not on my side

What i’d do to be blessed by that golorius image
Of the green dot to terraform to the dotted bubble
These hours of scilence, have set my time in ice
Maybe you’ve understood, what i’ve been fighting for

Shackled (W.I.P)

Another Wednesday night spent in solitary confinement
With the soulless drones that regulate the beer stained stools
Clutching my nectar with one hand
Sinking my fingers in L’Oreal tinted forests with the other
It’d be around this time I’d of gotten your call
Bet all our wages in on branded mental antiseptics
I’m sure we knew our smiles were never true
But stricken with the weekday blues, what else was there to do?

We’re all just a bunch of confused kids
Backed up against the walls of our own convictions
The stupid things we’ll do when we’re urged to make a choice
Monetary debts, emotional obligations and clueless detective work
We’ll hang out, in an ‘outdated since the naughties’ fashion
In after hours children’s parks, as if to inspire a sense of youth

Does the empty feeling ever stop?
Does being hollow ever go out of fashion?

Channelling the spirit of the Swedish brewery itself
With it’s export valiantly nestled in your hands
You’ll re-adjust your spectacles as your turn your glare skyward
As if you’ve just clocked on to the diamond moon at the shop window
Stamping your heels into the shreds of bark
You’ll make the vow you’ll never let this town get you down
And that you won’t stop until your writing smash winter fireplace hits
As the sunset rains in through the blinds of your shoebox
With such a scorch in your belly, a gleam in your eyes
I had to say you outshone the moon

So It breaks my belief; that a life can be well spent
When I still spot your shadows around this domain, well past the due date
Caressing the scars we left behind for a sense of comfort
Entertaining silhouettes like we didn’t notice each other instantly
It breaks my heart to say; but I think this town’s got us beat
We’re both already dead, I just don’t think we know it yet

Does the empty feeling ever stop?
Does being hollow ever go out of fashion?
Does the desolate feeling ever go away?
Does being vacant ever stop feeling so right?

You deserve better then this
You deserve better then us

Lucid Wishes

When your awaiting the spectre of pastel filters to enter your vision
I only ask of one favour for the man of your physical world
To just spare a thought or two in your lucid gateways
A second in your subconscious will cement the meaning in the words

I just want to surf the scan lines of your imaginary world
Be a part of the centre of your hallucinations
At the forefront of your sack of inspirations
That you reach into when your captivating your audience with your directions

And if I materialize while you skim for captivation
I’d pray you’ll stop on the channel

When your laying face down on the mattress
I hope it’s my name you murmur into the fabric
While your toes twitch and sway
While your eyes flicker and project

Counting Freckles (Actually Good Version)

I can’t articulate the anger I’m feeling right now at the Gaia
When the rays sneak past your curtains and intrude the picturesque scene
I couldn’t even conceive the idea of turning a band new page
Pushing the previous day to the side to start one without you
Take refuge with me within the darkness of the sheets
Under the covers where time is forced to cease
And the cancer rays have no chance of pierce through our reality
To me it’s still Sunday, hours pass like seconds and sonnets pass like comments

There’s no chance at coherent through or complex social patterns
My body is turned to stone and my mind moulded into cookie dough
All I can I do pay silent tribute to your adorable little grin
Your early morning mop, the auditory bliss of a morning yawn
It’s a self inflicted disability, but I couldn’t even begin to complain
So here we are at the advent of the afternoon, and I’m just counting freckles

And now we’re in a very special place, where we reject the visionary senses
But I can tell your resting your head on my chest, when I feel your respiratory rhythm
It feels like a waste to stay dormant when I’m teased by your perfect silhouette
The eyes may fail, but every follicle that comes into contact with mine
It paints a very clear picture of the masterpiece that lay before me
So I trace a Piccaso with my nails on the cavans that was gifted for me
Each corner I turn sends the signal for the hairs to reach for the skies
The goosebumps start to rise and your back begins to arch
You grapplehook my attention with that debilitating gaze
You don’t move a muscle and you wouldn’t dare say a word
But the ripples in the atmosphere that come from the flicker of your brow
I’ve bathed in the darkness long enough to know exactly what it is your asking for
So I start to change the course, and begin trace a figure eight
At the intersection where the sun never shines, yet still flourishes

My body is turned to stone and my mind moulded into cookie dough
All I can do is silently worship your illuminating kisses
So here we are, coming up to the tail end of the afternoon
And all I want to do is keep counting eyelashes

Counting Freckles (Horrible Late Night First Draft)

I can’t articulate the anger I’m feeling right now at the Gaia
When the rays sneak past your curtains and intrude the picturesque scene
The cancer rays tear through the security of the sheets
We take refuge under the covers, and kick the day off with a simple “Hello”

There’s no chance at coherent through or complex social patterns
My body is turned to stone and my mind moulded into cookie dough
All I can I do pay silent tribute to your cute little grin
Your early morning mop, the auditory bliss of a morning yawn
It’s a self inflicted disability, but I couldn’t even begin to complain
So here we are at the advent of the afternoon, and I’m just counting freckles

While I take hostile in your arms, you find a new home in the centre of my chest
In the presence of such flawless design, I’m compelled to serve and obey
So I trace a Piccaso with my nails on the canvas that lay before me
Each corner I turn sends the signal for the hairs to reach for the skies
The goosebumps start to rise and your back begins to arch
You grapple my hook my gaze with them big brown eyes
As you pose a request by the way you apply force to my wrists
I trace a figure eight in places the sun will never shine

*This is awful, but I’m keeping it as a reminder to NOT post first drafts ever, even when super tired and high on life, this forever will be a blight on my record looool*

The Perfect Concept Of A Date In Tatters

*An old one I wrote when I was 17 that I just came across*

Can you remember the times of yore
Walking down the empty dull lit steets
Locked together by a statment
Knowing were it was we were going
Their was no alternative to this lone routes
Nothing could in our wildest dreams could go wrong

But now the streets are clatered with people
The likes i’ve never witnessed before
Pouring in from taverns like the flood
Serving no purpose but to get in our way
But maybe i speak to soon on our behalf
As your lock on me is loosening ever so slowly

He wiskes you away in obscured visionary
All it ever takes is shelter and the deals done
You can’t take what you promised him now
But to take it from me is all to easy
Their is no lock, their is no streets, their are no people
Just walking aimlessly untill i find it agian

Never Before Have I Been So Relevent (W.I.P)

They set up land-mines and trip wires in the bar
Wetting their lips as they never avert their gaze from the door
All in hopes I’ll set off a C4 and set the place on fire
As my bloody corpse drops to their feet, so they can bring me up again
They’re like fish nibbling the flakes of my skin
In the Mediterranean all to just to be relevant in my legacy

Weather I’ve traced my hands through their very concious
Or I’ve just brushed past them in the college corridors
They’ll crush their spines to bend over backwards
Just to bring me up in conversation once again
The females love to recount old fables
Fictitious tales of the tyrant that barged in their lives
The males quake in their boots, hold their misses tighter
Spewing what if’s of my skull breaking on the curb

Bitches can’t get enough of the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t get enough of the Switzer-man

My vacancy means so little to their theories
I’m rocking it at another party with the unknowns
I could care less if you see me as a ballistic missile
It’s not like you’d ever break your monotonous weekend routines
To ever come and find me

Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man
Bitches can’t stop talking about the Switzer-man

I’ve never set foot in this dive, for half a year
And yet my name still echoes through the mugs themselves
No matter how many mousetraps they try to set up
And distribute them with Chinese whispers throughout my friends
I’d never set foot in this dive, not for another half a year
I got better things to do, then to satisfy your obsessive curiosity
I have no place here with the mildew of the town

I wish I’d never step foot in the sun
Just stayed at home where the mention of my name
Actually means a damn

Editors note: When preforming this live, I fully intend to replace ‘Bitches’ with naming and shaming the Boys and Girls who don’t stop yaking about yours truly

14/02/2014

At first, as if too marionette your actions, I feigned indifference at the offer
For a 30 quid overdraft in the name of smearing the dye of my jacket
Against the half price circa 1990 bargain bin wallpaper
All to the soundtrack of to a chart of the charts
All to the flavour of a 6 pack of lukewarm ale
I could’ve died and fallen to the bridge bar underworld

Until you stole my gaze, the second I caught your reflection in the fridge
The bar I could never reach, A ruby amongst the garnet
I knew I couldn’t live with myself, until I’ve exchanged language with you
A beer pong spectator, A greatest movie debater, A sexy story dictator
Whatever role you wish to play, it’s fine by me, as long as it keeps you talking to me
And I can keep seeing that intoxicating smile

As time treacles down the drain, along with the Rosé wine
Our cheeks have gone the way of the rouge stains on the carpet
As I bare a witness to the Aurora Borealis of the night
It’s when your eyes start to illuminate the room when you begin to divulge your passions
The way you describe the stage, it’s as if it’s a piece of Asgard on your little blue rock
Each description of how each cog turns the machine, gets me excited with you
I’d like to think I’m not so shallow as to lose my breath at the flex of intellect
But I can’t deny the saliva pushes against the palate, when these words leave your lips

You try and deter me with cautionary statistics, and ask to refocus my beer goggles
You sink your head into you chest as you lament about your vessel to me
I have to chuckle to myself, that you’d think such a thing would turn me away
As I engage in the one of my excruciation mental battles with my occipital lobe
You see it’s taking him a while to believe the mortal avatar of Aphrodite
Is still talking to me when she has a catalogue of Adonises to pick and mix from

You say I could do better, but baby don’t you understand
I’ve tasted the greatest soma, and it’s just apple squash
I’ve tangled with the most complex nous, and it’s just channel surfing
All in comparison to you, golden trophies turn into copper coins
I know I don’t deserve to clean the dirt between your toes
But if you feel generous, maybe I could loan a kiss or two from you
When our calves are in-between the shoes, pressed up against the front door
Seconds feel like days, when I’m so close to them mocha corneas

Each inch of your construction deserves my full attention
I could spend a millennium caressing each and every pour of your body with my lips
Timing each and every kiss, with the precision of a diamond cutter as I travel up your legs
Slither my way through your chest and leave my insignia on your neck, before returning to your lips
Oh darling I know I’m being greedy but if the outside is this outstanding
I struggle to comprehend what awaits me inside the grey matter
Let me sync with you my empress, let your inspiration and creativity pour into me
Just a second of exposure to that mind of yours, will lighten my entire life

Oh even if you choose to desert my shores this time tomorrow
And shoot for the stars you were clearly born to grasp in your hands
I’ll spend a lifetime in ecstasy, no matter how grey the skies will get
Just a second of nostalgia with my valentine, the silver will beam through the clouds
But if you ever decided that this lowly peon could be your man
I’d transcend to a state of a mind, that unfortunate mortals could never reach

Dedicated to B.B