Tag Archives: prose

The Underworld

They can take your body
but not your soul.
It’s only your body,
and not your soul –
but I fell in love with
that body that houses
an even greater soul.

Does that make me
selfish? I don’t care
to know. The first
time I saw you that
a-long-time ago how was
I supposed to know what
kind, great man you were?

Take me instead, take me
instead, just let them
leave my eyes and hands
and I’ll have enough to
live again.

Before they take me ears,
my dear, allow me to hear
your voice one last time….

Does that make me selfish?
I don’t care to know.
The first-time I saw you
I knew that I didn’t
want you to go.

Brown eyes matched
mine.
Who’d have though
that such a star from
a Northern boy could capture
the heart of mine on a
Saturday night without
words until the end.

This isn’t new,
I’ve felt and fallen with
love before but never
until now have I loved you.

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Wanted Words to Give

Can I write you a
song to represent
what I wish for you
and I to be?

Never-ending with
new chapters while
repeating the melodic past
every so often.

I’d give you
the words of High Heavens
to make your life the
Eden in this modern
world.

Please let me give you
these words which go
soft and quick.

I know I’m not perfect;
I have a fat face and
my father’s stubborn
streak.

But even rough and
perseverance has its
own sort of grace.
And I wish for you
to outlast my fate.

Good Enough for Tonight

You’re not great
but you’re good enough for tonight.
You can’t see truth in fiction
and that just rubs me wrong
but in this moment of notice
I don’t care as long as you
rub me raw.

God, I can fucking hate you.
It’s so easy to hate you,
pretentious twit with the
false idea you have something
to prove.

God I can’t stand it. Not
for very long. Just do
what you want and I’ll
get what I want just
as long as you leave,
I’d rather you not stay.

You’re picking scabs
I didn’t know where there.

And I’m not even sorry,
I don’t expect you to be,
but your sex wasn’t great,
but I didn’t figure you’d be.

You’re not great.
You’re not even good enough
to stay, so I’d rather you leave.

You asked me for words.
I laughed in your face, I’ll
give you these words at the
end of this song to go and
kindly fuck off.

Too Far Lost

God, my love,
has taken me too far.

I’ll have you now as you
were then. You don’t
know what you cause in me
and I’m the one to blame.

This love leaves me
exhausted and here
I’ll call out for more.

The more I get, the
more desperate
I get.

Is this all in my
head? Am I not
really stuck in
something overhead
and too far
gone?

27 April 2015 (WIP)

At last have I
the pain to fill
the hearts of Keats,
of Darcy, Fitz.

Oh, such pains to
fill the Turners and
Nichols – this is not
a stong of loss, but
a product of art.

I am part of the greats,
of doing before thinking
and throwing in my soul the
heart into worlds it need
not know.

Now I’m one of my heroes,
an Austen, a writer, a player.
We’re all equal and all
it needed was mt soul to take.

A Bronte, a Welsh,
a Vizzini – we’re all one now.