You are not dead, I tell myself
You have merely gone into hibernation
Your likeness is embedded in my core
At the centre of the hurricane
What consolation can be derived
From your dull and frigid overflow?
That will never again reach the sea
Who but you will swim through this desolate space?
You are the forbidding orb that overhangs
The marsh of my heart. An oracular symbol
Just out of view; looking down with disdain
Bleak in concept you hunt me like a hawk
The grass blows frenziedly
And, like me, it bemoans its destiny
Its feeble lack of rigidity as cruelly,
Mercilessly, the night snatches at it
What is it you want from me, I ask
For I feel that I have given you everything I had
You imprison me within your territory
Of ivory castles and bones of ebony
The atmosphere descends, oppressing me
A night as dark as a whore’s knee high boots
On which silver buttons shine.
The horizon is forever beyond my reach
Sipping Red Wine
Sipping red wine
Suffused by silence
Her serenity belies
An imperfect Sunday
She wanders through
Her babies rooms
How did they die
So quickly. She sees
Dead dolls with eyes
Of lavender, protruding
From their sockets
All lined up with
Disembowelled teddy bears
Her offspring are not in Paradise
‘Heaven is for fools,’ she cries
Remnants
Remnants of the past remain
In the stillness of this country. A once pleasant
Landscape. Hardly any spark of life here
We march through the leaves of Autumn
That choke up the hills, that smother the streets
In my mind this desolation
Is personified. The body of an old dictator
Hanging from a lamppost and big, black dogs
Dripping saliva through gnashing teeth
As they snarl, you back away
‘Never show your fear,’ I cry
I am one step away from becoming
A card-carrying member of the human race
I crouch down, leap upwards and then I fly
I savour the emptiness of that black sky
So Sick of Drowning 