VIII

There are eight of us now.
There was once more,
A lot more.

As death is a journey,
Let’s say their travelling.

There are eight of us still.
There will be less,
A lot less.

Strangers

Everyone starts out as strangers,
Made up of blissful ignorance,
Until that chance meeting,
That makes us more.

To know, to love,
To find these special people,
These random people,
Is to experience life,

To live.

We breathe for one another,
We die for one another,
We live for one another,
We love one another.

Everyone starts out as strangers.
Even me and you.

But look at us now.

Hometown

Here in my hometown,
Wild and free.
Happiest times I’ve had,
Have been spent here with you.

The smile on everyone’s face,
Tell me I’m happy.

The boxes of brown which house my possessions,
Tell me I’m sad.


Tears flow, numbers exchange as we drive on and out.


Here in this place,
Kept and trapped.
Sad times I’m having,
Are spent here with you.

Derelict dialects,
Tell me I’m lost.

Letters arrive,
Tell me I’m missed.

He talks to me,
Tells me to follow.

Take my hand,
I’ll show you the way.

Running back to my hometown,
Somewhere that I can be,
A place that knows me well.
The perfect place for me.

Union

Drunken ramblings of my former self,
Tell me,
I’m not ready.

Careful plans, exact precision,
All for what?
A party?

To celebrate the loss of my identity.

Too late to speak up now.
Guests on their way.
Band on hold.
Photographer watching.
Cake in the back.
Family.
Friends.
Suits.
Dresses.
STOP!

Is it too late?


Contemplating options on my feet of ice.
My plan,
My escape,
My liberation.

I’m out.
The expensive towels are thrown in,
And I’m out.

Running, running,
Must keep running.

As marriage,
The last form of slavery and mutual suicide,
On it’s way,
Looking for me,
And I’m here with you.

On This New Day

The extacy of grief,
sweet,
as it lashes my face,
with tastes of salt and sorrow.

It won,
prevailed and taunts us,
with the lack of you.

So many things,
undone tasks,
things now which will never be.

This new day has come
and your not here,
but it's clear,
that I love you.

20

20 pence on my keyboard,

placed there by the bain of my life.

Sia to my left, singing.

Jess and Amy in front of me now,

love them both.