Sunday 19 October 2014

Break up

To be clear, this is wholly fictional. Husband and I are fine!


You can screw me
in the kitchen.
It’s the best
we can do.
We’ve wrecked
the rest
of the house already.

We’ve torn down
the curtains,
spattered the paint
with our venom
and our bile.

We’ve ripped the sheets,
smashed the chairs.
We’ve cut a swath through our
once happy home. I’ve
called you names I can’t take back.

You’ve looked at me with
eyes full of spite.
We’ve robbed each other
of the will to love.
Now here we are, ready
            to come crashing down.
           
I’m exhausted and delirious.
You’re breathless
and bruised. We’ll peel off
each other’s
sticky clothes and lie down
            here
among the mess we’ve made.

There’s no fight left in me.
Let’s make this one the last.
We’ll have one more throwdown
before we call it quits.

We’ve raved and we’ve screamed
and we’ve shredded
everything that was good.

Now we’ll ravage each other
in the middle of the ruin
of our domestic bliss.

There’ll be shards of crockery
in your back,
and bits of glass
in my thighs.

And then, before it stops,
there’ll be the shells
of broken eggs, clinging to your palms,
and smears of burst fruit,
heaved against the floor,
congealing, sweet
between our stomachs.

And then we’ll fall asleep, wrung out
by the violence of our ending,
and I’ll wake up,
and you’ll be gone.

All the world is conquered


All the world is conquered,
And the stubborn stain of
Revolution rubbed out.
Who are you? I’m
A question unasked.
I’m dry river beds, I’m
Bleeding tongues. I’m
Crumbling walls, I’m
Shrivelled fingers. I’m
Empty eyes, I’m fraught,
I’m chaos, I’m naked.
I’m the shame of the shameless.
I’m a million ghosts, I’m
Nothing in return. I’m
Another voice, another
Face, another no one to forget.
I’m fresh oblivion, day
By day, I’m the sign of the cross.
I’m a shapeless spectre, I’m
A shadow, I’m a pall. I’m
The pill you never swallow,
I’m the cure and I’m the cause.
I’m the scream and I’m the silence,
I’m nothing at all. I’m
The devil in the detail, I’m
A body in the street. I’m
Close to death, I’m
Still alive. I’m flower petals
Crushed underfoot. I’m
The sweet scent still hanging
In the air, I’m the stench
Of decay. I’m withered, I’m
Rotten, I’m shiny gold. I’m
Resignation, I’m resentment.
I’m what’s left behind.
All the world is conquered,
And the stubborn stain of
Humanity rubbed out.

Song


A tragic song will swell
In your breast, my love,
And the tears will
Blossom in your TV-lit eyes
And all the thousand thousand
Dreams of the thousand
Thousand thousand lives
You thought you’d have
Will come swimming up
And you’ll weep, my sweet
Because none of them are yours
But I’ll be with you
Just the same, my heart
A thousand thousand times
I’ll grasp your fingers
Just as tightly as I can
Lie down beside me, dear
And put your hand in mine
I’ll wrap your dreams
In pretty paper, and we’ll
Open them one day
And I’ll sing your song
And we’ll weep together
Because I am yours
And you are mine

Wednesday 8 October 2014

End of Days, part IV


“These are the end times,”
            you said,
and I thought
            you were joking, 
            until
you flipped on the TV
news, and said,
“Look at this.”
And then
I believed you.