Inspired by Nirvana's song 'heart-shaped box'. The line "I want to eat your cancer" was so strong and powerful, really got me thinking

I want to eat your cancer,

Sip your darkness, your evils,

Drink from your chalice of disease,

Soak up your pain, bathe in it, wash in it...

So that you are dry.

And when you are too dry;

Powdery, breaking, crumbling,

Ill offer you a dri...

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There’s a floor called race and a home called blood,

it can be what forms you.

It can be what clothes you, what warms you as it flows through your body,

a rich honey providing brotherhood, relation, family and love -

bonds of pride which cartwheel through your body.

I have a mystery and in my father lies the clues.

I had droplets of speciality, uniqueness, distinction, excitement...

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The nature, the ‘should’ is all intact.
But you must look further, seek the abstract,
The magpies watching with their pitiless black eyes,
Who will steal your jewelled secrets and spy.
Who will sit on your shoulder, whispering sin till you rely.
So little magpie, you must die.

Little shadows which dissipate, hiding in the trees,
Get you crawling, searching on your knees
Till the sticks...

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Inside her closet are the remains of a broken umbrella with the materials in cinders.

Her skin cloak is draped over a spindley coat stand,

most people name it a spine,

most people's are strong,

straight.

They carry the puppet as if a master holding strings...

But sometimes autum's trees fall down

without reason

because nature is flawed.

Sometimes a stem ca...

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(‘Ask me why and I’ll spit in your eye’ - The Smiths)

Pinch the rogue flesh slipping from my jeans,
Dig each thumb and forefinger into my hand,
Scratch me with that caress and turn when I blush,
Let the fire wash over my face whilst pretending not to realise.

Leave me be even though our legs are intertwined,
Please leave me be even though our mouths talk and share,
Leave me be even thou...

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(I've been struggling to show anyone this poem for a long time but I've been inspired to let it free. These feelings are behind me now and it turns out writing was to thank for that afterall)

How does someone stop cutting?
Do they cut into the paper instead?
Replace flesh and blood with diaries and ink,
Replace physicality with mentality,
Replace actions with words,

It isn’t enough.

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(I'm aware this is a controversial poem and I hope not to offend anyone but I make no conclusions, I only ask questions)

The nature was deteriorating.
The sky was falling down,
raining pieces of ashy soot,
crashing and burning
and you weren't there.
Why weren't you there?
The birds squawked and screeched
and in-between their cries were mine, calling
and I was reaching out to you.
I ask...

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We talk.

A lot about her,

yet I know nothing about her.

She shapes words

but I hear emptiness

and all that exists her mouth is air.

She gives me carbon dioxide

but little care,

little advice or help,

little information.

Just ambiguous comments,

large words meaning nothing

and letters sounding silence.

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