Marks

Two little bruises

give you away

one on my right wrist

one on my left.

Imprints of your thumbs

as you held me

like I was the only thing

keeping you afloat.

Now just smudges,

like newspaper print

but the stain of you

lingers.

I touch them

to remind myself

for one moment

I was needed.

Now I watch them

yellow

into the pink of my skin

like leaves

rotten.

Death wish

Sometimes

I wish

I was terminally ill

so I could quit work

forever,

guilt-free.

We could sit

on the bed and

play board games

and you’d make my dinner

for me.

And when you weren’t here

I could read magazines,

write a diary

and watch trash TV.

And you’d have to be nice,

if you liked it or not

Whatever I said,

You’d agree.

____________________

It is what it is

Everything happens for a reason

Except rape and earthquakes.

What goes around comes around

Unless you get away with it.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger

Unless it’s a stroke.

Tomorrow’s another day

But not if you die in your sleep.

Karma’s a bitch

No, karma’s a fairy story

Rich boys get off murder raps

Babies die the day they’re born

Or before.

Oh well.

Time heals all wounds.

It’s just sometimes

you have to 

wait

forever.

__________________

James

You are my ton of bricks, I can’t see anything but you.

I want to fold up inside you, safe beneath your skin.

Alone I’m on stand-by

Only you can resurrect me.

________________________

Untitled

This scrunched up

piece

of toilet paper

that I held in my

hand

so hard

as your eyes raged

black

Is all that is

left of me

It is the only

thing

of mine

still standing.

_______________________

Observatory

Ian showed me

a ticket

ripped, with a phone number

on the back.

Might have been

thrown out weeks ago

But now eerily kept,

Preserved.

He showed it to

me like a prize:

World Trade Center

Observatory

September, 2000

‘How big was it?’

I asked, with the

naivety of one

who has never seen

the like

of a skyscraper.

‘Bigger than you could ever imagine,’

he replied.






_____________

Battery heart

I’m starting

to think

love songs are lies

love songs are

just

flush of lust songs.

No love song has

ever been written

ten years down the track.

Like a chicken

whose body grows

to becomes its own worst enemy:

the more you know of me

the more there is to

pull apart.

__________