written 27/12/22
paint drips down a rainbow memorial
"in loving memory" sprayed on the tracks
faceless ghosts connected in rows
red string hung loose from their hands
artists having silent conversations
their private moments in public
one flick of a brush, they're scattered all across the world
connected through a system of complex constellations
i touch flesh and my hand floats through it
other people's hearts are sisyphus' boulder
i hope that if i ever paint that empty spot of bricks
that the ghosts will haunt me till i'm lying in a ditch
written 04/04/23
the rain gives way to ribbons of color,
my limbs feel like lightning bolts,
light, electric, bright, manic,
kinetic energy, shakes and shivers
low rumbles from thunder and earthquakes,
and then, the storm passes to wind
and cold, and petrichor,
and silence
leaves drop dew in my hair
my feet stomp mud puddles
it's quiet again
and it's quiet with you, here
written 20/04/23
there's a lightless fireplace under my blankets
there's comfort in the crimson rage
it feels like home in the bitterness
where i can't see, or feel, or hear
i want to know how far down this black hole goes
i don't want any of it to end
if i don't have the hate, if i don't have the sorrow
what is there to replace it?
if i leave, what's my excuse?
i don't want the choice
and if you lent me your hand
you'd have to lean so, so far
my nerves have burnt to dust
but if you reach in, you'll feel it all.
written 20/04/23
there was a rumor in these woods
that atop a hill far away lay a box with a bottle of wishes
nobody knew if it was there, or if its wishes came true
but i spent years on a search for it
and when i sat on the hill,
with my shoes worn to scrap and mud
and my body frail and weary
i opened the box
my hands grasped the bottle
it sparkled violet in the moonlight
cold, radiant and glorious
my hands shook from anticipation
as i put it back inside
so i can always keep some hope within the glass.
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