Sleep; Landscape

Hold my body underwater, wait until my breathing stops – count to 20 in your head then kill a cat to wake me up. Document the first word that I speak, ask what I want then record my response. Make a note of the first thing that I ask, then when I’m lucid ask me what I meant. Shove my head back underwater; watch me writhe and gasp for air – focus on the frighten in my eyes and watch it turn into a glassy stare. Make a mental note of how you’re feeling, with me laying lifeless on the bathroom floor. Shake my shoulders, slap my face, breathe deep – resuscitate, ask me “where did you go?” ask me “what’s it all for?”

What’s it all for? Is there any point at all? Is there really a god?


Written, Reside

I’m here, where you left me – you know where to find me.

The sound the waves make, as the waves break, on the sand. The sound your lips make, as they close, around my mouth. The sound of sirens pierce the silence of the night. The sound of thunder – like an air raid, in the sky.


If I should die alone, at least I know that I once knew what love was – it was sad to see it go, but half the world have never even felt it. What if we’d never met? Would I even know that love hurts in the stomach? What if we’d never met? Would I crave to taste as much as I have tasted?


Is it obvious what I’ve been dreaming of? Sleep with the sunrise, wake in the dark. Cut gums from sucking broken glass, grazed knees from praying. You were where I saw myself. Is there anything left for me to love? Sleep through the daytime, dream of the past. Torn heart and blisters in the gut – still find me praying. You were where I saw myself.


I gave her lillies for the death of her love – she gave me guidance, in accordance with the stars. I gave more lillies for the death of her dog – she gave directions in the night. I got to using all the things she’d taught me, to teach my friends the way to a heart. I got to teaching, all the things I’d learnt – she got to learning my mistrust, and now we’re dust. I wrote her letters, from a darkened room – she read the letters by the light of the moon. I wrote about a woman I once knew; she sat there reading of her past. Now we’re dust.

Cause Relieve

I stretch to the cold side of the bed – where are you now? Hypnotised by ceiling gazing; replaying the day in my head. I’m only brave when I’m laying here – running through what I’d say to you. I’m only brave when I’m laying here – running through what I’d do to you. The shadows creep around the room – the moonlight (like a torch) seeks me out. The minutes move – the neighbours clock makes ripples in the water.

In Darkness

Alone in the darkness – I’m under the water. I swim to the coastline, and watch, as the ice-caps melt. There’s evil here and it’s always night, yet you can’t sleep a wink. Now that the moon’s out, let’s walk through the wet sand. Let’s follow the shoreline and watch as our footprints fade.


You walk around, no shadow cast, as silent as the falling snow. You watch your family from afar, you watch your children as they grow. You’re not far in spirit, but you’re far. You meet your mother as she dies. You walk your children home from school. At night you lay beside your wife and hold her as she mourns for you. You’re not far in spirit, but you’re far.