Can A Life Be Well Lived?

Deep within the recesses of tonight’s summer dream I say
“Don’t looks some glum honey it’s better this way”
As you clutch your cyan tinted suitcase
While boarding the 7:12 to London Liverpool Street
My absence in your life in but a small price to pay
To ensure you can touch the stars you lust for at night

Yet in reality: I see girls discarding away dreams and ideas
Like a pile of first drafts overflowing from a bin
All because of that funny look their boy gives them
When they dare try to make a move in his presence
That may kick him of the top dollar spot on the throne
To die so submissively it breaks my heart

And yet even in a world where I can have anything
I’ll still let you go to makes sure you can have everything

And yet when I awake at the rise of tomorrows sun
I’ll be having breakfast alone again

I don’t think a life can be well lived
At least unless lived on your own

*Written For National Poetry Month – 10/30*

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

I Can’t Stop You From Appearing In My Dreams

It’s 3:52pm and it’s now I hear
That the broadcasts from down under reach their peak
Even I admit that’s a weak excuse
But anything to put off crawling to them sheets
Anything to stave off meeting you again
In the one place you van still Influence me
Smack in the middle of smoky storybook aspirations

Westbound to a plain of intangible letters and sentences
Only in this sector of the concious
Where desires are interpreted for temporary manias
Do you stand before me again

All grudges flow out through our pours like black tar
The hate seeps through the husk in our breaths
The spite flakes off our very skin
All I have left to remember is to how to stay betrothed to you
I was no one else’s to lose but yours my love

Utilizing my muscle memory you lock your fingers with mine
Like claws on a tow truck you whisk me away
We take a quick hike from the town centre to yours
With the parts I can’t recall replaced with golden plated bridges
Connecting my recollections together

The ingrates that poisoned you have been purged
Their mouths stitched shut to stop them from bringing you down
It’s just you and I with the audience of the washing up
There isn’t a thing to fret about
Just how the sunlight highlights your genius design

The smoke flows from the floor boards
I smear it through the threads of your scalp
You inhale it through your regulated pants
As it pours from the ducts into your irises

Trace the curves of optimum natural selection
Grasp the wrist of a submitted romantic intention
Groove to the rhythm of a calculated routine
Play it back those glossy sweet sugarcane memories

The Clock hits 9 and caresses my eyelids
The reality kicks in and the mist starts to disappear
I beg my master to release her grip from my limbs
But her grip stays aggressive just like an anchor

She sinks her claws, digging deep into my wounds
She tugs from within my arms to keep me pressed against her chest
I can’t stand the guilt, the oh so familiar sting
How naive of me, for it was me who brung you here in the first place

An interpretation that’s all you are
A reflection of the reality, with a sweeter taste
And smoothed out edges
A version of you that doesn’t berate my birth wronging
While you demand I clean the wounds on your arms
As you leave the ones under my legs wide open

The hate floods back into my veins
As if to cue the pins and needles
It flows to my profile and forces my eyes open
For another cycle I’m free from your grip
Until my eyes grow heavy and then I’m yours again

No Dream Gal (W.I.P)

While you relive and recite the terrible accounts of today’s shift
The same accounts everyone else present has been through too
But somehow they seem to keep it under wraps, funny that
The joints in my fingers are starting to ache and stiffen
As I reach the end leg of this 1,000 curl hair twirl marathon
With dandruff unapologeticly gathering on the shoulders
I start to gaze out of condensed glass and begin to wander
How i’d be spending my time if the slots had stopped in my favour

We’ll first trade glances at the new years due
I see your mugshot pop up on my computer screen
I must be grasping at straws for a mutual interest
If I’m claiming we have a shared passion for The Fall

But if that’s what it takes to get me talking to you
About which blockbuster you’d like to see next week
I can fake it easily, just for you my darling
I throw a date, a time, an offer round about your way

If only people flowed so naturally together, or maybe they do
And maybe it’s a joy a niche existence like mine will never know
I start to zone in and hear how your manager unfair-
Okay time to zone out again, now what would happen next

You’ll pop round mine uninvited, banking I’d still be in the clutches of my sheets
In your arms you’ll clutch a box of hors d’oeuvres, ripped from a dying relatives 97th
With a flavour of confidence in your vocals, you let it slip we’re bathing in the sun today
We’ll be tasting the finest processes, protruding from the coldest machines

With a tinkle injected into my sockets, I rush upstairs to get ready
But suddenly I’m stopped in my tracks, by a choke-hold on my collar
Gasping for an explanation she curves around my form and explains it to me clearly:
“not without getting your imprint on my navel first”. Oh yes how I’d kill for that

If only people flowed so naturally together, or maybe they do
And maybe it’s a joy a niche existence like mine will never know
I start to zone in and hear how the new iOS is on the fritz
Oh great…

I still believe it can happen one day
And the diamond of my eye is laying about now
Writing about how she dreams of her ideal lad
In the middle of mundane coffee dates in the spring time