Say Nothing

Say nothing,

and make every act a surprise –

the jump-scare

of a haunted house,

the only noise to meet it

my gasping shock

(or screams).

Say nothing,

and leave me mind-reading,

pretending

I know everything –

a charlatan,

though,

and nothing more,

beneath the curtains and

the smoke.

Say nothing,

and expect me to respond –

to say something

with the flashing light of aging bulbs,

about to burn out

from overuse

(and undercare).

Say nothing,

then say nothing again,

and

just once more,

say nothing.

Less

Quiet at this writeless desk.

Lost on a routeless walk.

Sickened by a tasteless drink.

Deafened by this wordless talk.

Never Soon

Soon was a healthy lie,

one which occupied no time

and lasted for ever,

came around time and again.

Never is now a poison truth,

taking up all moments,

gone in seconds,

ever unreliably absent.

Forget the Man

Though you remember

the beast,

no doubt you will

forget the man.

You may recall

this new thing,

and dismiss

one which has stood

far longer.

But I am here,

taking my own turn

around the sun,

and yet

burning out,

forgotten,

at the end of it all.

Easier Truth

Both of these things

are true,

but who

would not permit

one be a lie,

for the sake of

a simpler life,

or at least

one with

an easier truth.

Met / Wished

I have never

met anyone like you:

passionate,

warm,

engaged.

I have never

met anyone like you:

indifferent,

cold,

disinterested.

I have never wished harder

that someone

would be one or the other.

I have never wished,

failing that,

that someone would be

nothing.

Miss and Miscalculate

Despite all the things

that you catch

every day,

and despite your

mathematical skill,

you somehow manage

to miss and miscalculate

every cue

set in front of you.

You Are But Reckless Hope

You are but flickering light,

fickle might,

and frittering sight.

You are but aimless swing,

nameless thing,

and blameless fling.

You are but reckless trope,

feckless hope,

and neckless rope.

You are but fickle thing

and reckless hope.

Something Could

This has been nothing,

dressed as something.

When it is stripped

of its cloak,

it will be nothing still.

But you will see

that something

could have been.

I Am

You are

the worst of all worlds,

and

my favourite thing.

The irony is not

lost,

but I am.

White Fingertips, Black Touch

Perhaps with the presence

of a fresh white start

at your fingertips,

you might reach out to

what has waited in the black

for your absent touch.

Ink and Paper

I have written you down,

for I dare not

forget –

and all the world will see,

but you.

If only you had

ink and paper too,

so that you might

remember me.

Ever Harder to Want

None of this is playing,

except that for you

it is a game.

All of this is hard,

and the harder it is to get,

ever harder it becomes

to want.

Hard to Want

In this game

of cat and mouse,

I hunt you out as the thing

that I need;

but running after you

feels nothing like playing;

it only

makes me dizzy,

and though I could

get you,

it makes you

hard to want.

Perhaps This Is It

Perhaps this is it:

dark clouds,

silenced music,

unanswered questions,

solitary living,

frozen clocks,

and the end of the road.

Looking Out

This is the sea –

vicious and unpredictable.

This is the lighthouse –

trapped

and looking out.

This is the the rock face –

battered and crumbling.

This is the keeper –

existing alone

and lonely.

Now Faded Ink

Cupped in hollow hands

are all these

fallen

scraps of paper,

but

not a single one

tells the story you expect

when you first pick it up

to read ahead,

and so,

in the end,

all that remains is

unfinished things

with a great deal more

promise

than their now faded ink.

Collecting Breadcrumbs

I might have avoided

collecting all these breadcrumbs,

based solely on the false promises

of fairytales,

if only I had realised in time

that when I finally made it home,

I would be putting

my own head in the oven.

Broken Bones

It is no use

making wishes here –

the only stars in sight

are long dead;

the only broken bones

belong to me.

One Little World, Now Empty

Above, just one star,

lighting very little

of its world, and realising

now that it rests in an

empty sky,

waiting to burn out.

May The Road

May this road lead you on,

may the breeze clear the air,

may the sun warm your world

and shed light where you need.

Even if the road takes you away,

even if the breeze tells you things I would rather it not,

even if the light draws your attention elsewhere,

may they do what they must

and what you need.

I Am Good, You Are Better

I am good at climbing rocks.

You are better at throwing them.

I can pull myself up from

the edge.

You have mastered the art of

loosing my fingers,

before I even have a chance.

By the Neck

This is worse

than being

held against a wall

by the neck –

because your hands are soft.

At Once the Earth Shakes

I exist at once

as I stand upon this ground

and breathe this air,

but

when you come near,

the earth shakes and

falls

away beneath me,

and I cannot

catch

my breath,

as I cease to be no more,

because of you.

One Grain Too Late

One day,

when the sand runs out,

you will

wonder

where its gentle sound

has gone,

and wish

you had counted

every

single

grain,

only to realise

that you are all too late.

One Thousand Days of Nothing

Five hundred steps

on five hundred days,

through five hundred moments,

I have been here.

Standing,

waiting,

being.

But every moment,

every day,

you take a step away.

Forgetting,

wasting,

leaving.

In five hundred days,

you will have gone

and I will have wasted

one thousand days of nothing.

Switch

Sitting for a moment,

looking out,

this is

electric.

Waiting for peace,

or a moment to speak,

then losing hope

as the switch

flips.

Blade

Laying down,

rested head,

with nothing to do

but breathe

and think.

Taking all this in,

unseen

until the blade drops.

Hang

No sound but the breeze,

as I prepare to

hang

on your every word;

not until the floor

drops

from beneath me

and my neck

snaps.

Don’t Forget

Don’t forget to be grateful –

try to remember,

this time,

if you can –

because

one day

will come your last chance,

and I will not be there

to hear you

when you forget to say

‘thank you’

one more time.