Fence Proof

These things I do

This thing I am

Is as pointless as a door in a fence

Like a middle name

Empty

Watch and wait

Weight

So heavy

No well done thanks for trying

Can’t say help

Or no

There is nothing to thank me for

Although I stopped stayed

Watched and waited for you

All

Will never quite measure up

Never be quite as real

As grown up

As the world

I stayed behind in

The one you all left

Me

Behind

In

I watched and waited

The weight

Made me small

Pointless as a door in a fence

Not quite good enough

Not quite right enough

Not quite wrong enough either

I watch and wait

I know no one will ever come

Back

For me

For what I am

Now

Trapped

Down the hole

In fragments of time

Not quite real

Not quite a dream

I hug the walls

Like the dead mouse

Swept up by the storm

Mouth open

I love you

They are soft

More forgiving

Than what I watch and wait for. 

Blank

Do you do anything kinky she asked

I don’t say

I never say

Eat myself shit myself out flush myself away

The silence makes her leave

She always leaves

In the end

If I try hard enough to

Shut her up

Shut the fuck up just fucking shut up

I stand in the kitchen

Clean up

The bin bag

I would fit in

Too many beautiful terrible words

In here

And powder

Too much powder

My hands drip on the floor

Water

Never blood

Bloodied Bloody

I wipe over with my toes

That is me on the floor

That is me

digesting evaporating oxidising

Crawling out of my skin

In the aisles

In the aisles my arms neck twitching convulsing

Like the little girl’s palsied hands

There is no one to put the rubbish out

Clear up

Tenderly

Like love

Loved

shutupshutupshutup

I pick out a card

Blank for own message

I leave it on the side

Next to the pen. 

Better

I hear cars birds water
and and and
Blood rushing up to my head won’t stop even upside down
Endless on and on
Penguin in the carpet shop
Rotten wood in the place people go
At the end
I look
I always look
The man smiles
I put my head down
Saturday street is closed to me
deflated castle balloons
All grey hard
Hail bouncing off the window
April
It is her day soon
Soon the date will come and go
The sun on the water makes my head hurt bounce hurt
Like playing in gravel
Fun until you see the blood
Fun until you have to wash it off
Crashing around in stones on stones
Undetectable like sound in water
Unreachable like death in a dream
Knock the feet from under me
Pin me to the floor
Finger prints getting old on the back of the car
There is no such place as better
And your weight no longer hurts.

Paper Square

It is hard to hold on to the little paper square
It is so rumpled it has become tissue
Over used
Over worried
A cloth not a concrete tile
Set in stone
The words are fading
They were black
They sit in my pocket
Quieter and quieter they rest
My fingers are heavy
Set like stone
They make me remember
When there was no thought
Just dependence
Unthinking
I smile at the woman
In the car
On the phone
Wipe the rain off my shoulder
She smiles back
For a moment I think it is different
Nudged along
A fraction of a thread
Of cotton
A tiny fall
A tiny stitch
There is a pattern a seam sturdy unseen
Underneath
Like a vest
Like an umbrella I fix
With me
In me
Concrete and paper
Water to soften the blow
I smooth out the paper square
Set it on the table
I will keep the words
Until the water dries
And the voices settle.

happy

Are you happy asks Billy the Liar
Could always be happier I lie
He has more wishes in his eyes
Than the woman
Who takes the money for her coffee
Reads the paper
Signs the form
Pat yourselves on the back
Isn’t she doing well
Fucking peanut crunching crowd
The bulb broke
In my bed
Got caught in my toes and sleep
Lack of sleep
Every hour turning over
Holding hands neck feet
No way to rest
I have to go
I am going
Turn my shirt back to front
Take out the penny
The glass
Find a lock and key
Paste on a face
Worry a list of questions
So no questions will be asked
no will to move no will to stay
put the rubbish out clean wash snap
a few biscuits a little bag of liar’s wealth
get your keys out early so there’s no fussing on the stairs like you have never been it has always been almost a poem when it was over she gave me the red wedding ring tore up the photos bequeathed the dust I expect nothing from you I expect nothing of you and so Billy the Liar asks me if I am happy could always be happier I lie.

Coming Back

So many clocks in the window
Colours and hands
They cut away the minutes
But I can’t hear them going
Not like in the night
When the minutes tear
So loud
I try and turn them into words
Something key
But the pencil leaves no trace
Not even a draft of what to do
In the morning
In the morning
I see the woman who lays on hands
Her lips are bright red
She kneads my shoulder
I’m ok
Yes. I’m ok
She shouts out
There’s no one at the checkout
Off with their heads
She goes
I want to tell her
I’ve been away
I am back
Except I’m not.
Back.
And I want her hand
On my shoulder
Again
Always
I hear the name
Always the name
But it doesn’t bring me back
Locate me
Did you see the kid asks
I’m going to give you such a slap
it’s ok it’s ok
Two people have seen me today
I carry the big bag
Get in the game she says
(just fucking kill me)
I come back
Un pack
Think of her red lips and her spindle hair
Bleach and a little serenity
She will stay for a while
I will find her again
But the minutes will never be done.

Taken With Care

Here I lie
Awake
Killed by noise
And words
Pain
Dull aches and Palpitations
Bricks on my chest and my throat
I can’t breathe
I can’t breathe
Even with the window open and the pillow
The walls shake
I dial the phone 1am
Food in the back of my throat
Please help
They give me a number
I write it in pencil
In the dark
Open the fridge to read it
The numbers seem wrong
A grid reference with no destination
I look at it in the morning
And it makes no sense
Like a night of terror
Sketched in pencil
The electricity cupboard open
The doors slammed
A white bandage on the stairs
How my hands ache
Pain
Dull aches
Palpitations
I wish I could click my heels
Find a storm to be blown away
Taken with care
To a place called home
I wish I could stop the walls from shaking
Stop my heart from keeping me up
I search in the dust of light for softness
trick or treat
No pain
A gentle steady beat
That doesn’t leave me scared
I carry the paper
With the pencil marks
Held out in my hands
A little lullaby taken with care.

End Credits

I hear voices in the lobby
Alright love
no
A man in a black t-shirt in the back row
I think they have found me
out
Found the times written on the paper
Broken down the door
Wondered why I did the laundry
Bought food
My stomach growls
Empty
Empty as the search for me
No one knows I am here
No one knows I am gone
I see the outline of the blister in the dark
I move my watch down
So it doesn’t burst
It’s like travelling
ten years twenty years
Back Backwards
Somehow I feel I need to preserve it
The fluid inside
This hyper reality
in the kitchen in the lounge in the bathroom
In this empty chair in the dark
It was once enough
justified breathing moving washing my clothes
The sound of my keys
Echoes around the car park
I set a date
A most important date
It justifies no response
The sound of my keys
Echoes in my bag
It plays out like a film
rattle rattle thud.

junk house

I see him leaving the junk house
Yellow
Crutches
Mobile phone
Exceptional everyday
It says on the back of the bus
Going past me
Down the hill
Nothing is acceptable
Any day
Every day
He’s never done me any harm I tell them
Every bang Every thud Every woken night does me harm
He is turning my house into a junk house
Half a year in a baby’s bed
And this is where I am
Where I don’t want to be
Where it hurts to breathe
So I do it in short spells
To see junk you have to know junk
Just a little
Nothing exceptional
Nothing changed
Not inside
Just the words on the outside
The smaller body
It fools a lot of people
But it doesn’t fool me
I hold my bones
Over the trash bag
eat spit and choke
Stand in the kitchen all jitters and plans
Fruit peel and red tissue
Choose a day
Nothing significant
Nothing exceptional
Just an empty day
It won’t take me from the inside
From the yellowed world outside
we all know
bridge jump library books
Junk sick
Reflected in his aluminium crutches
Swinging in an Iceland bag.