Obsess (W.I.P)

Gasping to fill the void in my lungs
Mimicking a fetus by the doors of the club
Old pastel hair walks on by and checks for a pulse
And a very special kind of cycle starts to whirl
It’s where I get a pretty young thing in sight
And she detonates the curiosity
Suddenly the prying eyes turn to blurs
I want her to Obsess over every square inch
To question the very way I walk
To notice every scar on my chin
She grasps my hair like leaves on a radish
She demands more nooks and crannies to investigate

But after you’ve peeked at the answers
At the back of a puzzle book, it becomes trash
Her attention wanes as the escape plan begins
A 4 week voyage to the bottom of the ocean
It’s where her aunt’s new flat is
She’s come to see her new proboscis worm
All to get me of her chest
And leave me scuttling on the floor
A blue bow’d lady checks to see if I’m alive
And the cycle starts again

Blue bow gets me down on my knees
Demands the anteating treatment
A one way ticket to get a glimpse of god
Through the medium of ASDA bed sheets
Once envisioned my thrills start to stagnate
I’m left crawling on cemented tiles
Like a leech without a belly to feed from
Holding back crimson waterfalls
With a mere forearm acting as the damn
Amber eyes hands me the dressing
Likens me to a NME cover model
And the cycle starts again

Be Infatuated (W.I.P)

My common sense is running on its reserves
And my sense of logic has fallen prey to hypothesis
Gleaming duo’s and content herds that gladly tickle the gland
Inn my head that duplicates envy at an alarming rate
Madam I couldn’t explain how I’m currently standing on my two feet
I’m flat out of assurance, every drop spent i’m all empty now

I have no right, but if I can ask for a favour?
Be Greedy, Be Demanding, Be Infatuated

I’m gagging for a carefully constructed sentence or two
Thrown my way out of the Cerulean after a period of radio silence
You can excaudate and inflate a fleeting thrill
Turn compliments into a 4 paragraph analysis
Just a little something to make me feel whole
Give me a delusion that I’m necessary to you again

I have no right, but if I can ask for a favour?
Be Needy, Be Clingy, Be Infatuated

I can’t help but fantasize about you laying spread upon your spread
Staring at the ceiling with your legs crossed
Craving the chance to get into my head at the best
Craving me to stop the eruption at the worst
I’m not a fussy man, I’ll take any request you demand of me
Anything to know you were thinking of me, voluntarily

I have no right, but if I can ask for a favour?
Be hungry, Be starved, Be Infatuated

Dread Flush (W.I.P)

*Just a few lines I wrote while bored at voluntary work*

Command lines tattooed around the nerves come to a halt
Joints freeze, submitting to the claws of the evening chill
As the rails have lead the party in front of a neon lit gate
With decades worth of conversational trees lie await inside

Surrounded by cackling crows and howling cats
Foxes screeching through the wine glass
When the elephants step over the boundaries and their tails
Melt into the plaster and play espionage

There’s a flood of dread I can’t contain
Crawling down the glass into my lemonade

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

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 (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

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

*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 Sonic Cycle IRL (W.I.P)

Now don’t get me wrong, your optimism in your admiration for me is darling
The way your eyes rival the strobe lights when your clutch my hand
Making sure we never lose contact under the mercy of the dance floor
But it’s arrogant for you to assume your the first
And it’s naive of me to assume you’ll make sure your the last
When the sugar leaves your blood and the month comes to a close
And you come to meet me on a cloudy noon by the tennis courts
You’ll forfeit that twinkle in your eyes, just like the predecessors before you

You’re name starts the chimes in my memory
Your past credentials have impressed me fellow enigma
The origins may vary from person to person
The fairy tale has ended and my interest has waned
My self-esteem will be the catalyst to my laziness
But it always ends in the same way

I’m losing my faith, that anyone’s gonna break the cycle
No matter the creed, colour or class it always goes the same
What’s to stop me from disconnecting completely?
When the excuses are the same?
When they all lead the same?
When they’re all the same?

Try as I might I’ll never escape the wheels of fortune
The scene loops again like a broken vinyl
How typical when I open my body up, and let these sensual thunderbolts
Invade the gateways into their epicentres to provide that taste of heaven
All I did was ask for a little admiration in return
Then I’ll see the same drop in their smiles on my pillows

You’re my Betty Crocker interlude
To break up a conveyor of base processes
Then why do the texts suddenly stop?
You’re my mascot clad onesie
After hours of grinding in corsets and heels
Then why does your grip loosen from my hand?

I’m losing my faith, that anyone’s gonna break the cycle
No matter the creed, colour or class it always goes the same
What’s to stop me from disconnecting completely?
When they all get bored the same?
When they all lie the same?
When they’re all the same?

* From the Gynophobia series*

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