Balloons & Parachutes

Could it be fate.

Crushed under the weight, I shifted in the shadow and cursed the clocks.

Ones own expectation, nervously ignoring the sounds.

The sounds.

They all play in the pubs and bars, hunting, hunting.

Stop and move through the crowds, hurting hurting.

Immersion, subversion, coercion, it’s just a game of tricks and traps.

The droll life of a literate neanderthal, monkey say, monkey do, backs to the wall.

Graphs and pie charts, populations with academic smarts.

Undergraduate neanderthals, monkey say, monkey do, hands against the wall.

Let’s make love.

Sweet baby girl of mine, come on all I need is a neon sign.  Sink into me, sink onto me, sweet baby girl of mine.  All I needed was a giant neon sign.

I want everyday to be a duvet day, everyday I want for you to have something new to say.  I want everyday together to stay.

The revealing of teeth and tongue, the smile that shadows the sun, if this day ever ends I will pack up my things and profess “I am done”.

Let’s make stories in the snow, let’s lay down on the grass when it starts to grow.  Let’s make stories in the snow, let’s make love in the grass when it starts to grow.

The clouds are coming on the back of horses, the rain is coming.  Sweet baby girl of mine, this is too much of a sign, all I needed was a neon sign.

I have the map of my brain for you, I wrote it on a napkin over breakfast for two.  I never want this day to end.  I never want this day to end.

The revealing of teeth and tongue, the smile that shadows the sun, if this day ever ends I will pack up my things and profess “I am done”.

Let’s make stories in the snow, let’s lay down on the grass when it starts to grow.  Let’s make stories in the snow, let’s make love in the grass when it starts to grow.

Let’s make love.

Make love.

In the grass, the grass.

When it starts to gorw.

Grow.

Let’s make love.

This stomach can’t stomach me.

Staple my stomach down, staple it down down.  Waking into nausea, falling to my knees, staple it down down.

Look at me now.

The echo in this pale bathroom, the bright white lights, this dentist appointment has gone horribly wrong.  I swear there is no cartilage between my verterbrae, just pieces of bricks and sand.

Look at me now, looking down and terminal.

A billion bullet size ants crawling over my skin, a pin prick to make sure I am awake, I stare into the toilet water and nothing stares back.

Look at this mess of me.

My body is failing me, my mind is leaving me, look at me now broken and stapled down, hollow thoughts and unrealistic expectations making me ill.  A mental anguish is better than the physical torture.

Look inside me now.

I crawl on my belly like a baby snake, milked of all my venom I am on fire.  Pull off my head O Lord, I cannot cope with waking to this.

This stomach can’t stomach me.

Save me.

Playing it safe.

I feel a foot, feet and toes.  We wake up downstairs, upon a couch too small for two beings.  I squint and turn to you, awake with eyes closed daydreaming of possible ceilings.

I look for my shirt, but I slept in it.  Without bottoms on you is making me smile, my lip is bit, is this it?

I stumble towards the kitchen, stubbing my toes.  Rubbing my eyes I talk to inanimate objects, you mumble about minding my toes.

After tea it’s coats and arms, outside it’s cold so wrap up warm you remind me.  I realise this air is different, we are by the sea. The bus is late, but time is a wonderful gift for me and you.

The ticket machine takes my change without apology, I call it a bitch with a tad too much misogyny.  You tell me to risk it, you whisper; “don’t be like all the rest”.  “Playing it safe isn’t for the best”.

“Playing it safe isn’t for the best”.  “Playing it safe isn’t for the best”.  Say it with a smile, sing it with a smile.

I pick up the phone but you don’t pick up, I fall onto the couch to reminisce.  The smell on my shirt collar is an intoxicating mist.  All I can feel is your breathing in my ear and your feet hugging mine.  It seems everything turned out ok.

I dreamt a dream of taking you to another world, far far away and blue and brilliant.  We would write history together all because playing it safe is never for the best.  Take me to another world, make me stories and we won’t have to wake on a couch like all the rest.

“Playing it safe isn’t for the best”.  “Playing it safe isn’t for the best”.  Say it with a smile, sing it with a smile.  “Playing it safe isn’t for the best”.

Jorga

Clouds and shapes and stuff and things.
Pour a little salt onto the wound.
Look past the clouds, I see a world black and blue.
Cut the rope, it’s still black and blue.

I take my step ladder to the sky, I take myself too.
Each step is far from easy.
Balance was never my strong point, not in life or otherwise.
Parting the clouds, they are heavier than you would think.

Placing my hand in yours, you pull me the last inch or three.
We are now at last together, you hand me a pot of honey, but where is Mr. Bee.
Heaven is a funny place.
All my time was wasted but I am here now to make amends.

I am walking on air as thick as mud, hand in hand with Jorga.
Her real name I will never know, I couldn’t care.
I know her better than any name could tell me.
My hand in hers she shows me things that make me stare.

She shows me glass ceilings showing the ant like race below.
There is rivers, there is water and there is snow.
The familiar faces below should make me sad, should make me weep.
But hand in hand with Jorga, all I want is to smile and sleep.

Awake before the break of dawn, the sun is hiding my warmth.
I look up, no stars, no moon.
Clouds
Hundreds of clouds.

I am back down here with the ants, the mud and Mr. Bee.
I look through the clouds.
I see her face.
I look through the clouds.
And I see her face.

The last photo I take will be of you.

Turning up to look past the clouds is never easy for me.

The weight of my head has doubled.

Your scarf is tied so tight you can barely see.

I can’t see past these broken tear ducts, the approaching flood is getting you troubled.

Rain hitting my face hides the fact, I am crying over you.

I want the last photo I take to be of you.

Standing silent and still my lips are turning blue to match you.

I want the last photo I take to be of you.

I go to sleep with you in my dreams and wake up covered in paper cuts.

I fall asleep watching you through closed eyes.

I wake up and your pulling on your dress, I don’t even get the ifs and buts.

When I see you know, I want to look at you through closed eyes.

Rain hitting my face hides the fact, I am crying over you.

I want the last photo I take to be of you.

Standing silent and still my lips are turning blue to match you.

I want the last photo I take to be of you.

The flowers leave your hair in the wind like a startled bird.

I like one side of yours better than either.

If I had the truth I would still be in this situation.

When asked who do you love you said neither.

Rain hitting my face hides the fact, I am crying over you.

I want the last photo I take to be of you.

Standing silent and still my lips are turning blue to match you.

I want the last photo I take to be of you.

I don’t want pictures anymore, I want the truth.

The last photo I take will be of you.

I don’t want pictures anymore, I want the truth.

The last photo I take will be of you.

The last photo I take will be of you.