Coast Crush

Cat’s eyes, a bow, emerald earnings and a rabbit tooth necklace
A black dice bracelet, a Minnie Mouse pin,
A goats skull tattoo, and a pitch black dose of Manic Panic
Just some of the tools you use to fish-hook my attention in the cafeteria
As the light ricochets from your jade skull ring
And preforms a calypso radiance, through the rabble and catches my eyes

2 set’s, a drama class and a lack of knowledge of Manson’s discography
The only things that separated us from beyond the nod in the hallway
The wit of the tongue spies a cobblestone path through mutual friends
And drunkenly made brothers, that was laid out before me
But if I ever got to your door how could I captivate you?
A lexicon of lullabies and artistry vs. a note left on the fridge

But I can’t keep my mind out of the picture show
A 24 hour double feature of maybe’s and possibles
Of spending 3.50 on a return to the coast
Cross-legged in your room in our Sunday Best
Sing-songing along to Nicole Dollganger
Under the porcelain surveillance of your doll collection
And your lemon and lime bearing predecessor
Gulping down the sour taste of the looming Pythagoras homework

You could send that weary neck off to lunch for a while
Put my shoulder blades to the test outside the tourist trap
Comparing toy capsule trinkets and penguin bar one liners
Turning a blind eye and letting the weekend roll away
Maybe I could ignite the Stella bottle and make you a fireworks show
Ignoring the niggling boundaries of reality
Maybe we could take the next coach out of town
Ignoring the fact this is all still a day dream
I never left the screening, still stuck to the chewing gum in my seat
No amount of accidental bumps between lessons can turn this into a documentary

A documentary that would end with a stroll from the Cod-boy And Son’s
After spending my mum’s bus money on rounds of Soul Blade
And onslaught of red hue revealing the lizard contacts in your eyes
As we pick up the pace, your way to outrun the curfew
Spend the rest of the night sing-a-longing to Nicole Dollganger
“Yeah my baby has a baby, but it’s not me”

A peanut butter sandwich and Yazoo milkshake later I get out my seat
Slogg my arse empty handed to get grilled in double science
We pass glances at the exit, as you head to double drama
Swallow another day where we stay as we are: Strangers

– Lnc0

VI – The Lovers

It would’ve been so easy y’know?
The oak was in clear sight at the cross roads, my number 12
By this point I could’ve had ‘em pecking seeds out of my palms
My sense of fulfilment appropriately enough: full and my purpose clear
Kick my heels up at the mounts resort and await 13 to take it away
But to think what I’d lose in the process…

I’d miss all the time you’ve called me a two-bit cunt
As the red shell connects with peaches rear wheels

I’d miss all the intense colliding of bunions
As traumatic as the plates beneath California
As we feast on peanut butter sandwiches and milkshake in the park

I’d miss the times your nashers have sunk into my arm
As I trace the lights shine around your Jugulum
During the closer of a drunken summer festival

I’d miss the surge of the heat as we project;
An impressive form of shadow play on the tent walls
For any music lovers passing by to see
Accompanied by the sounds of J.T echoing from the main stage

I’d miss the ways that your eyes dilate as I outline;
My predictions for the ends of this Journey
Eye that believe I can and wants to bare witness

I’d miss wiping away your tears from my shirt
As we collectively take the strike to our emotions
By a scenario writers attempt on our brazen personae

There isn’t a prize, a title, salary, career
An inflated sense of fulfilment, ego or self esteem
That could be worth your absence
Anything worth doing is worth doing
With you illuminating the view, my number 6

– Lnc0

Dedicated to Esme

So’ – Part 0

I’m petrified of losing my senses or losing my mind
To smash the towers looming over my the wooden refuge
A place made on a shoe string budget to keep my thinking in check
To smash the towers by my hand and to explore every possibility
Obsessively nit pick every possibility in every multiverse
Until my backed myself into a corner, cowering at the idea
Of the victories being outnumbered by the failures
To imagine a world where what I have lost could be regained

It’s torture
With my back against the mattress I’m at my own mercy
I’ve never known an opponent so merciless and cruel
It’s agony

Smack bam in the middle of pitch black vision deprived brainstorms
A compilation of features resembling your smile, your hands
And that dumb noise you do when you breathe through your nose
Lays by my side, scraping the underbelly of my limbs
Making sure my mind stays in coherent sand dunes near the city
Rather then writhing with self inflicted mirages away from society
Scrapping just that little bit harder every 6 times to make sure I’m still awake
You’re always here for me, I just don’t think you’ve come to know it yet

Part 1
http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/80710036191/so-part-1

*Written For National Poetry Month – 29/30*

26/03/06 > 03/04/10

I sit in the aftermath of a rotten moment
Bathed in the darkness of modern designs
Head perched in hands my mind fades back
And I move my head to your direction

I could swallow domestic sadness on any other day
But on the eve of parental celebration I do struggle
The guest of honour was never expected to show
It still seems impossibly so

I’m sorry I never think of you, as much as I should
But I never had the heart to do so before
Somehow if I tilt my head towards the heavens
I think my words reach you, where ever they go

I’m sorry I never speak to you, as much as I should do
It’s not as if I couldn’t speak about you
I’m sorry I moved on too fast, the others needed me too
Stability is the only thing I could do
I’m sorry if I kept it all to myself, no one would see me through
To be a burden is something I won’t do
I’m sorry if this all isn’t needed, but I felt I had too
On the eve on a day dedicated to you

I’m sorry for the sharpness of my tongue; I pardon myself for my French
I’m sorry for the distance I keep; I know you wouldn’t agree with it
I’m sorry for my wild instincts, your furniture deserves better
Even if you can’t hear, I feel I should’ve still
There’s still a while to go, I still couldn’t do you wrong
I only hope

I’m sorry for every time for the times, I’ve moped about all day
I know you’d kick me for acting that way
I’m sorry for how I tired to soften the blow, and kept you away
I just wouldn’t know what else to say
And I’m sorry it took so long, for even through song to say
As we slowly approach the month of may
This is the last time I’ll use you now, to vent my selfish ways
I promise next time we’ll talk on a good day

Just cos I never came through till the end
Don’t think I never loved you
When I forgot to call you back when I was out
Don’t think I never loved you
When I locked myself upstairs and refuse to come out
Don’t think I never loved you
When I freeze at the sight of tears
Don’t think I never loved you
When I stayed downstairs when I heard you moan
Don’t think I never loved you
When I didn’t cry when it was all over
Don’t think I never loved you
When I saw that smile on your passing face
I knew you finally found peace
And when I grinned after I left your room
But it was only cos I loved you

Dedicated to ma’