Early Exit

*Another oldie from when I was 17, man I was a sad ass boy*

Walking under the proto-sleet beneath me
What is it that the locals see in me?
If i started running would any of them follow me?
Friend or foe to see what was the score?
Making my way through the nostalgic stage sets
Exit right away from the routine dramatics I’ve seen before
Trekking it all the way on my own
As much as I’d hate to sulk, let alone
But it’s far to late to scream for them
As I’ve already fled the scene

Is it out of hate they decide to keep quiet?
Or is it out of love they don’t want to tip the harmony?

I couldn’t find the heart to ask for aid
When it’s that aid which is expected of me
But if i started to walk away would any of them stop me?
Unless i tried to plan and make a scene
But to give in to weaker ways would destroy me
Would it make me nothing more than charity?
Snifflers and sobbers huddled on the pavement floor
Asking for pity, louder than ever before
Would it be wrong to follow suit?
Or would opposing tropes cause me to be cast aside?
If your not happy your not relevant in these times
So sadly I’ll have to flee the scene
And hope that they’ll follow me

Is it out of hate they decide to keep quiet?
Or is it out of love they don’t want to tip the harmony?

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

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

Dynamite (W.I.P)

Under the constant gaze of those who provide asylum
She could never even leave a shred of evidence
Of the werelass she becomes underneath the full sun’s gaze
The sleeves come apart, the trousers rip at the seams
As she howls at the sky, as if the scare away the night
She fully intends to take them up on there offers
As she dips her fingertips and palms in the paint
She doesn’t intend to leave without making her mark known

Leaving the states of the vicarious older boys
Like an skip nesting outside of a vacant council estate
They’re free to take anything inside, now she’s hit the road
Oh yes she’s dynamite
Shooting the sun’s glare the brightest smile

With the eyes of ego, pried open by the audience’s cheer
She spots the horizons the self tried so hard to hide
She see’s there’s so much to analyse and more to learn
See’s there’s a plethora of hosts to act as her avatar
She sits on the pavement with blue eyes
And draws profiles with hustled patio chalk
She lays on the soil with green shirt
And spots constelations contrasting with the void

They slink home after they escape the virgins gaze
Hoisting their collars sky high to mask the war wounds
Reeling from agony the second their backs hit the shower
Oh yes she’s dynamite
Shooting the dimples in the ceiling the brightest smile

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