men, they spend hours, days, weeks
seeking, searching, running
to the Promised Land.

their bones, cracking from strain
their bodies, weakening
as their humours run dry.

all in the hope of finding roses,
delicate in petal, soft to the touch
this is where they will lay their heads.

but what if Mother Nature were to rear
her wiry head?
leaving weeds, un-ripped from their homes.

i suppose the weaker men would get lost,
unaccustomed to rich thorn,
glorious thickets, never ending forests

our great Mother, she laughs
as they trip and fall,
tears falling, rendering our grass fertile

they’ve made their bed now, she supposes
now they must lie in it.

First, Mother Nature met Diana.

Mother nature, autonomous woman
Place the elixir of life onto my tongue,
Three drops, put your mouth above mine
Let your saliva drip in
Touching the roof of my mouth.

I’ll now tilt my head back,
Choking as it runs down my throat,
A beautiful agony, as always
Into my body,
Down to my stomach,
The tonic of life,
Our life.
Now we shall create.
Amen.

Second of all, with fountains of love, they created a child. They went on to call her Rosina.

let your bees come in,
pollinating, creating life
but only under my terms,
only when i choose
to let them feast upon me

let a small peach form
on the branches of my womb
but let her core be poisonous
hydrogen cyanide,
to keep thieves at bay

if my body is a garden,
let it be ripe,
ever growing, ever flowering
a stretch of soft grass,
for us to lay our heads

mother, mother, daughter
the heavens will sing.

what’s your name again / does it even matter / please don’t follow my social media after this / I don’t want to ever see you again anyway, so why would I / why’s that / what does it even matter / you texted me first remember / let’s not get pedantic / I wasn’t being pedantic / you were / stop talking you’re ruining it / oh I’m ruining it / just take your clothes off / can’t we talk first / no you always ruin it when you talk, i preferred it when you were too scared of me to speak / why did you ask me over then, if you hate me so much / just stop talking
please

instant gratification,
brief euphoria,

taking 23 trips to heaven,
over and over, eyes closed,
forgetting you’re even in the room,
i like it better that way
alone, but you look so pretty like this
please don’t say it. don’t say it. literally, I’m being serious, don’t be that person, keep in it your brain, you’re just high as **** on pheromones (stupid pheromones), none of this is real, i thought you wanted to escape, not to be yourself, oh god, whatever you do, just don’t be yourself

I love you. ****.
Did I just say that out loud?

lie on my lap again,
spinning stories in the daytime
hours pass, doing nothing
except basking in syllables,  
their threads hanging in the air

if you would be so kind,
let me spin them into floss strands,
winding them onto a wooden stick
a snack to save for later,
for when i miss the taste of your thoughts

let me turn the look in your eyes
into Love Hearts,
small enough to hold in my hand
contemplating, just before
rolling it around my tongue,
for when you’ve fallen asleep before me.

can i bottle your brain,
place in into a kilner jar
watch it bubble up,
effervescent, pink lemonade
sweetness cutting through the bitter
something to sip on
for when I’m uninspired, again.

before him,
i had never dived before

i chose to rest my head
on the banks instead
the safety of keeping dry,
the power of never giving
was enough to keep me satisfied.

now, with him

i dive for pearls,
treasure, anemones; red, glowing
dancing by their own living fire,
in the midst of the pale blue sheets.

yet, like all good things
we have come to an end.
bodies emerge from water,
reality is always only a shirt away,
discarded on the floor.

after,

cooling down, sharing mugs of water
mouths reborn, bodies shivering,
ears slowly start to un-pop,
washed up on the shore, once more.

the first girl who ever kissed my neck
had bones in her bedroom.
like taxidermy, right? i asked,
squeezing her hand,
my thumb rubbing hers, innocently.
the early days are always beautiful,
mind.

could i offer you some jam?
the fruits of my labour, i said
as she dipped the knife into my open wounds
smiling wide, ‘i did this for you’
and i said it so proudly, at the time.

i prettied myself up with doilies,
a gingham tablecloth too,
covering the unsightly parts of me.
only for her to give me that look,
that disappointed, never good enough

look.
its pithy. there’s too much substance.
and she spat it back into my face,
the red creating a clown-smile
the only smile i could muster, at the time.

and then she started to scream,
and that’s where my memories lapse.
hacking sounds, bones snapping.
it happened kind of quickly.
severed heads, severed hands,

what does it matter?
if your lover is thirsty, let them drink.
it’s simpler that way,
it keeps lovers as lovers, the naïve part of me said,
like a mantra, over and over.

deep inside, where my strength lay
(and i wouldn’t usually tell people this
but as you may have guessed,
mere air particles don’t have much to lose)
i wanted to scream, fight back

give me that back, that’s not yours to take
but the words are lost,
her slickened hands over my mouth
drowning out the nose,
as she runs away.

******* coward. leech. parasite.
i want my body back, i wheezed
as the final breathe escaped my chest.

do you ever notice,
how i won’t stop making jokes,
just to make you open the curtains,
let your teeth open the blinds,
as they peel apart, crescent moon shaped
letting your natural light flood over us,
even in the dark of mid-morning bleariness.

(brightness,
creating brown eyes glazed in honey,
my morning coffee).

but then somewhere above,
a cloud overcasts the rays.
minor eclipses, everyday
stealing the moment from me.

the sky has a way of telling you to look away,
i think.
but i’ve never been a fan of reality checks,
i don’t think.

as always, it’s bittersweet,
to see you in grey one more time.
a sepia photograph reminding me,
always,
that sometimes what’s for you,
does goes by you, with the wind
never to be had or held again.

but instead of dwelling on it,
i weave these dulled threads into a blanket,
cotton, familiar, protecting,
to put over my heart.
because every time you look at me,
as the light comes in,
i can see exactly what she’s falling,
drowsily, wholeheartedly
in love with.

and i won’t tell a lie, old boy
it hurts.