Winter jumper

 

One of the best things I like about Winter is being able to wear my Winter jumper.

It’s big enough to wear as a dress and the sleeves easily cover my hands.

It’s vintage with Nordic patterns knitted in high quality wool.

 

His hand dives underneath my Winter jumper.

 

“Doesn’t it tickle?” he asks.

 

I contemplate his question.

 

“No, if anything it tingles like a multitude of needles brushing swiftly against skin. It’s a joyful irritation — a constant reminder that my body is still here and receptive to sensation.”

 

“Masochist”, I think to myself.

 

When I don’t wear a bralet the wool burns my nipples.

I often don’t wear a bralet underneath my Winter jumper.

Spring / Summer

 

I

And she said she’d always wear her round sunglasses ‘cause through those sunglasses the world was always dancing. And she swore to dance always through the naked fields clouded just by the sky. As I pressed his vein —bludgeoning, burning blue against the skin— my own veins resonated, electrifying the chords of my own body. In your starry eyes the universe lay reflected. Her breath swarmed over me, anoint me in a damp mist — sickly sweet of marshmallows, carbonated drinks and strawberries and cream. Intoxicated I lay down; a cotton candy clown.

 

II

And he said he’d always follow the sun ‘cause the sun sets forth life and never did he feel more alive than on the first days of Summer. Have you seen his bluebird? It hums softly in his stomach. Trapped, entangled in the guts. It sings the sweetest song for him only. His pores are a maze — through the cracks I can always find my way home. She crushes pearls in her milky hands, sipping oysters just for fun. He swore he’d catch me should I fall, and so he did and drowned me in an ocean of oysters, pearls and salted tears.

 

 

 

 

Autumn / Winter

 

I

And he said he’d take me to where the harvest moon shines the greatest. Under the fallen, tangled tango of the leaves. His blood streams a luminescent gold. I wish I could live forever in the butterfly house, where it’s always safe and warm and the fluttering of wings sing a most precious Summer hymn. A Dahlia flower blooms and dies, stretching her many arms wide across the seas. Her breath whistles softly with a scent of vanilla, rye whiskey and long lost romance. A multitude of tears began falling and swallowed me whole. With a sharp inhale I drink the sky of rose ‘till there is only a shroud of darkness left upon the world.

 

II

And she said there’s no need to be afraid of dying ‘cause dying is just a cycle and the world is eternally revolving in the deafening darkness of the imminent abyss. The cosmos is always creation, the sun now shines more brightly than in Summer. The world is crystallised, a fragmentation of the mind’s view in a thousand different directions. White harbours all the wavelengths of colours which shine through in a array of piercing macaroon, lilac and a cruel blue cold as stone. He pulled out his beating heart and buried it deep in the dry, warm viscera of the earth. Snowdrops hang their heads and sigh a gently cry — crows leap up towards the reticent sky. I touch the bark of trees and veins burn against the skin. As I breath a moist life into the air a robin whispers it’s hymn and dives into the dark hollow of my throat. His wings lift me up and I obliterate before the golden rays in the inky vaults of heaven where I rain born anew.

 

 

 

Sad Girl

 

sad girl sings a lament for the dying

in a four-bit video game score

sad girl’s daddy was a bank robber

her mother was a whore

 

sad girl loves her drinks carbonated and sweet

hot like summer heat

cold like a rainbow coloured popsicle

everlasting love is always optional

 

sad girl never had many friends

strangles lovers before it ends

saves bumblebees from crowded city streets

joins food fights with factory farmed meats

 

sad girl’s hands once got pierced

it was an uneventful class of crafts

she remains unrecognised a saviour

getting fined for bad behaviour

 

sad girl’s revenge is served with microwavable tv meals.

whatever sad girl wants sad girl steals

t-shirts, jewellery, gems, a heart of gold

sad girl’s sticky fingers clutch, choke, and hold

 

sad girl hears of civil war and famine

goes on hunger strike

ethical diets are all the rage these days

how long to go before she fades?

 

sad girl runs but never screams

sad girl’s always sad it seems

they say she’s bad, she’s a sinner

she eats strawberries with cream for dinner!

 

sad girl kisses just to tell

rides endless rounds in the carousel

sad girl’s clouds are always cotton candy pink

tries to drown herself in an empty sink

 

sad girl was baptised in a bath of flowers

sad girl cries a bath of tears

bathroom tiles have razor sharp teeth

sad girl slips, falls — is not freed

 

sad girl goes to church every Sunday

‘cause the shops are always closed

steals the body of Christ, the bread from the priest

it’s the only thing she ever eats

 

sad girl made a crucifix of magnolia flowers,

raspberry leaves and screams

‘the mummified vulva of Magdalena is the only

relic to fulfil my devout needs’

 

sad girls fall and sad girls tumble

break both feet on painted marble

blowing smoke rings in the sky

envious of the wings of a butterfly

 

sad girl dyes her hair a shade of gangrene brown

Xanax doesn’t lift her constant frown

a missing beat in her 3D printed heart

a myriad of glitches necked her from the start

 

Nostalgic reminiscence paints a picture

painfully true

sad girl always only knew

the second-to-safest road to school

 

she smiled to me and said

‘heck, maybe I’m just bad’

sad girl remains sad

 

 

 

Elegy of Two Pearls

 

a boy lay dying at the end of the road

the road is a sea, greatness beholds

green waves wash away traces

a future — untold

 

see God’s country in the dismal skies

foreshadowing a slumber of the mind

while she is breathing I can only die

life draws here yet distant, aside

 

two pearls stood the test of time,

cut down by a butter knife.