The Forceful Tide

Often, the wind blew a furious squall,

Gusts, hurricane force – deadly.


Inked hair on the stormy beach;

Strolling away, scowls, feet firmly beneath.

Without even a glance behind.

Sacrificial, scaring, thoughtless.


Nights in December, frail skin,

Life in front of the flames – scorching.

But what of those slashing thoughts,

When all seems truly beneath the waves?

Life lived in a frantic haze…


With the flick of a sudden wrist,

Denouncing all, swearing in retrospect.

Into the distance,

Contemplation, revelation – coming undone;

Undying in the light of perpetual dusk.


Eclipsed by the tides of wanting.

Sun glistening of that youthful skin.

Flowing, ebbing, silently fading.

Lust, and subtle reason – morose.


Silk used to run through my ten digits.

Now… nothing but the sand of ages’,

Nothing but the dust

Of relegated dreams.



Crouding Around Delusion

All of the road bumps, light.

Hard on the bare plastic.

Light in the dregs of nowhere.

One dim street lamp, to the next.


Idealism rocketing around.

Amphetamine, reaching light-speed.

With the bumps, the rumbles, the cognitive jumbles.


Doors closed,

Spirits living high, hopeful.

Backpack rattling away with needed fuel,

A little fire in the ever-night.

Crackling, burning, smoke rising high.


Laughter breaks the silence,

Half-drunken vigour, ruling.

Into the darkness, one small step.

Music in my ears; base heavy, rattling.


Farm-grass beneath the feet of dozens

Lighting the fires of careless youth.

Tires screeching…

Alone amidst the crowd.

A few friends beside, nothing more,

Not enough.

Not to crack such a fleeting consciousness.


Pull tabs, pulled;

Bottle tops, popped.

Chaos lingering, unperturbed.

Sexual laughter, tension, aching in the air.

A wish to place ragged hands anywhere.


I sat, jumper hanging loosely from my back.

Out of sight, out of the fire’s irreverent glow.

A few hugs, but even those –

Wrong; written to fail.


Down: one, two, three, four, five, six-


And more…

Time nothing but an illusion,

A construct in the fragility of existence;

Within the wood-smoke, the midge bites.

Truly alone, despite the crowd.



Wishing For Landscapes

Darkened corners of darkened rooms,

Totality, revised beyond recognisable.

In the tunnels of ruthfulness, fury reigns,

Fury aimed at the utterances of one’s petulant soul;

Guarded, unseen, beauty in what’s not known.

Seemingly, land is forgotten beyond the tunnel,


A world of tunnels, underground, residual;

Formations of nothing, of delicate impairment.

Distraction in all that should matter

To one’s mind and to one’s body.


With the flashing of lights,

And the rumblings of air-circulation.

Alone, walking, stumbling,

Choking on the viscosity of recycled air,

Suffocating, drowning in the particles of past youth.

Feeling the concrete beneath my feet,

Caught in the ever-glow of electric light,

Electricity born in some far-away utopia,

All while I plod, and think,

Thinking about the lives of others

Living in those sweet, sweet utopias.


Jettisoned away from the joy of being,

Acclimatised to the sorrow of harboured hope.

Rats crawl around holes in locked doors,

Doors leading to the multiverse; unexplored.


Whilst all I can do is walk.

Insipid, beneath sunlight, deprived.

Malnourished of intimacy,

Of everything…

United with the rigidity of the walls beside.

But it is all I can do to

Walk the tunnels continuously.



Dark Skin in Jaded Days

Falling, and falling slowly.

Falling for that dark skin, those dark eyes.

I was a boy, nothing more;

Life was pretty goddamned jaded.

Living in the shadow of all that made it.


Sitting beside, smiling away;

Fright in the eyes of the mirror all day.

I wonder back to those strange days,

Days of dark, days of unnoticed suffering.

I thought, I wondered, and I longed,

All for something I could never sway my way.

Especially not in those sorrowful, jaded days.


Powerless in the ushered, revered curiousness.

A vast, insurmountable ocean, outwards stretching;

On towards the far, distant beyond.

Beyond all sound, and all visible light.

Water beyond comprehension, beyond all that is human.


Still, the dark skin penetrated;

Down to the deepness of my crucified soul.

Curating in the advent of all that I would ever come to know.

But that party, and that deepening hole,

Youthfulness; images of misshapen cosmic comets.

Stars meandering through the endlessness of space.

All that’s between; all that isn’t between.

Meeting in that vast expanse, it was always impossibly unlikely.

Especially in those Jaded days.


In The Unknown

I crave touch.

Skin against skin.

A closeness unknown.

Intimacy unexplored.

Though, I am a prisoner,

Within a mind of petiness.

Encased within endless anxiety;

Endless self-judgement.

An escape, a freedom,

It is all I seek.

To feel warmth.

To be greeted with one’s smile.

Unfaltering in love.

Love… what can one say of love?

For it is as elusive as touch.

As mysterious as pleasure.

Both in body, and in soul.

For I live a life in the pure unknown.


Second Thoughts

This is going to be a somewhat direct interpretation of ‘second thoughts.’ Sorry if it doesn’t say very much at all… if anything. But it means a certain amount to me, so I thought I’d get some of it out there, off my chest. As much of it as I understand myself, anyway.

Ah, where do I start… second thoughts… Well, let’s just say, they have become a well-known and incessant demon of mine throughout the years. Also, they don’t just stop at being seconds, they go on and on. Multiplying countless times, over and over again, until they no longer resemble what they originally were. But new, unknowable, untamable demons altogether. Demons that cannot be seen inside. Demons that have no insides. No thoughts of their own. No weaknesses at first glance…

Though, we all know everything has its weakness, its kyrptonite. In real terms my ‘second thoughts’ are just a part of the dreadfuul overthinking that occurs within my mind many times each day. Telling me that my decsions are the wrong ones, questioning the authority I have over my own thoughts, the authority I have over my own mind in a wider sense.

I do not know why. I do not know where it all stems from.

I’m fixing it though, bit by bit. Or maybe fixing is the wrong term… patching, making myself waterproof – that sounds better. I don’t know how to do it. It is the biggest learning process of my life. The biggest thing I have ever undertaken, by far. But I do not let this puut me off. Imaging the person I might be at the end of it, the person I will develop into. That is a big goal to look towards. It holds some sway. Even if getting there is going to be mighty hard.

Second Thoughts

For You, Angus and Julia Stone – Those Moments

I’ll admit it. My choice in music isn’t to everyone’s taste. And maybe there really isn’t the broadest range to what I like. I am a picky person in this regard. Probably in all other regards too. Nevertheless, good music, is good music.

Angus and Julia Stone’s ‘For You,’is probably my favourite song of all time. It is one of those things I hold so close to my heart. Something I feel as it enters my ears. It stirs a deep-down part of me that rarely ever sees the light of day. This mysterious being residing in the furthest depths of my mind. It is both ecstasy and pain. Both resentment and hope. It is love.

Maybe it is because there’s never truly been a person that I could ever sing this song to. Sure, there are people who I wish I had sung it to. Maybe it is because it harks back to those simpler times when nothing really mattered, when everything was just practice for the real word. Though, I suppose the trouble is… I got nowhere near enough of it. I’ve always been too fearful of what’s waiting around the next corner. Too fearful to even talk to a the person that I now remember when I hear this song. And yet, what’s done is done. It’s in a long-ago past that frequently comes back to haunt me. Maybe it’s because since then… I’ve not felt anything like it

Maybe it’s best to not know at all…

The future holds the answers, I suppose.