A Lack of Colour

The sky was grey

the mist over the clifftops was grey

the sea grey

the horizon line had turned so pale a grey

it couldn’t be seen with the naked eye

the mood was grey

grey seabirds were flying up above

singing, grey seabird songs

the sea air blowing across the beach

even had an icy chill, that felt grey

with occasional grey raindrops

that stung my pale grey face (and pink nose)

as grey waves were crashing on the shoreline

colliding violently with grey rocks

I walked along the grey sand

the shadows beneath my weary eyes, grey

the woollen hat on my head, grey

the hair beneath it prematurely grey

my thoughts-

 

it was a grade A, grey day

that lasted and lasted

you see

there was a distinct lack of colour

without you.

 

 

No-one Can Hear Your Heartbeat

No-one can hear you talking girl

they have their own dialogues

no-one can hear you breathing

no-one can hear your heartbeat

no-one except you

you stand on the periphery of the social circle.

 

Your sob story sinks you to the lowest rank

we only want the good news today, but

your happiness is too loud to deserve airtime

check in some other day

your world is on the other side of the screen

not here in a social media dream

go away, entertain yourself

go away and fuck yourself

but do something productive.

 

No-one can hear you talking kid

we’re all talking to ourselves

we’re all talking about ourselves

don’t have time for anyone else

I like your funny picture

I glanced at it between rants

I smiled at your meaningful meme

on my way to my inbox

-cynically

 

Hmm no reply

 

I saw you posted music videos

but I don’t know the band

So I won’t listen to it

I won’t waste my time

it’s not Ed Sheeran

no-one can hear you talking mate

no-one can hear you scream

no-one cares when you’re cut up

on the other side of the screen.

 

We can switch you off, report you

block your updates

we get to pick and choose the content

we can edit conversations, delete our guilt

we can deny everything

claim we missed your news

no-one hears your heartbeat stop

no-one here can hear a pin drop.

 

The chatter is too loud

the news feed clouds the view

no-one can hear you weeping babe

no-one except you

this is nothing personal

we hope you understand

we really like you, but we just don’t care

we just don’t care.

 

Count on That

I was not the enemy,

yet I walked blindfold from the precipice

as darkest dreaming smothered me

I knew I couldn’t count on you.

 

Now, I wake from the blackout

to admit my foolishness to you

feel I owe you an apology

and a piece of my pain.

 

Sorry, never good enough

for your shell-shocked heart

and moral judgement

as foolish as I am

I knew I could count on that.

 

I was not the devil that tempted me

I was not the reflection that cracked me

I was not the darkness that took me

I was not the faith that left me.

 

Sorry, never good enough

for your blind anger

but I don’t blame you,

for you were not there,

I knew, I could count on that.

Footprints in the Frost

Soft sentiments, poetic

heart-warming verses

neatly written by innocent hands

on pristine pages of tidy notebooks

no torn pages, no crumpled paper

no dogeared corners, nor crossed out words

no bend or break in the spine of the book

with certainty, and self-assured peace of mind

soft sentiments, poetry

heart-warming verses

they belong to a character in a book

I’ll never write.

 

Because I’m starving for words

shivering and shaking at the back of my rented home

it’s winter at 4am

starlit in pinpricks of white

against a deep black sky

clear night

the silver moon in full bloom

thick frost glistening, crunching underfoot

a dog howls in a neighbouring yard

my breath wheezes smoke rings

that curl, drift, fade, soft into the cold air

Like ghosts.

 

 

I wonder why I’m out here

with you,

on a night like this where the currency of ink is all spent

and the soul shrinks back into the landscape

unseen.

 

I admit you caught me out

whispering at solitude

screaming silently

cursing shadows

caught me-

 

Leaving footprints in the frost

for you to follow

-before you dare lift your pen.