Linger

It’s not like I changed
This world
Just left a stain
Swiftly fading with time
So
Take these cold cold hands
And take these old cold feet
Lift me up
And lay me down

If only...

My loaf went stale
So I made some toast
And binned what’s left
Went to the shop
And bought some more
.
My pint mostly drunk
Was warm and flat
So I tipped it away
Went to the bar
And bought some more

.

...life was so simple.

Flux

Dead man strolling
Walking on in my
Well worn shoes
Mobile corpse
Dead man soulless ash
Stale air in stilled lungs
Dull pebbled eyes
Fixed on a final view
Until…

Until…
Your scent
Vapours enveloping
Your voice
Resonating vibrations
That vision that is you
You who set me alight
Burns me up
Fiery infusion
For life

Pressure IV

The chase was long and hard
But ends now
I stand swaying in exhaustion
Breath coming in ragged gasps
Reflected in scattered shards
Of shattered glass
I see a broken figure
A pistol to his temple
White knuckled fingers
Tightening
Squeezing
And realize
The hand that holds the gun
Is mine

Pressure III

Final moments of
Hounded life
Pushed and pulled
Turned and twisted
By deed and word
Walked life’s plank
To its tottering edge
Prodded and poked
A blade at my back
Along it’s downward curve
And in that moment
Pivotal poise
That revelation
Reflection glimpsed
That hand wielding the knife
Is mine

Pressure II

Life’s constant pressure
Bearing down
Beating down in waves
Swamped in troughs
No peaks attained
A sea of turned backs
Of seen through sliding glances
Raging tsunami howls within
Rising and ripping out
Fists pounding walls
Pulping flesh staining
All those around
And the realization
That the only fists raised
Were my own…

Pressure

Face

Pushed firmly
Irresistibly
Against that wall
Rat trapped – cornered
Nothing left – held in place
Nowhere to go
Firmly pushed and held
A grip inexorably tightening – choking
Only to find
That hand is mine