50 shades of stupid

So I'm sitting at work
(there's a) thinking singing ringing in my head
words been said
that seem so strange to me.

That's not right
I wanna say, I should say
but I'm afraid.

I'm afraid you'll say it's ok
for you to one day
thrust into me when I say no
and that-
it's romantic to be draining in cuts and blood when-
bdsm is an expression of love
and marks of the skin is an expression grim.

so do tell me.
how you can justify an abusive biograpy
praised as if it were new
like hell praised for killing you!
would you say sex is the decision of your lover? when you don't want it
and you're being the bother?

I'm afraid you'll say
"oh grow up, you don't understand.
love is what the lover can stand."
perhaps you don't know how it feels
when the blood's draining down your heels
and it kills
tell me sorrow
your heart'll follow
a knife or two.

I have a proposal for you
why don't you read between the lines
and stop watching the disguise
grin.
It's laughing at you, it's watching you
and it knows
oh my friend
it knows it's got you.

but when you are there
you're stuck.
struck
and broken.

Now tell me how that is sweet, sweet love.

The Moments Between

There's a chair in the middle of the room,

It presses against carpet with four thin legs

and is stuck rigid

forced to endure.

It's master gives no promise

that it will be relieved of it's duty,

the wooden frame groans

as decaying muscle waits.

Brown jacket sits on an unfamiliar lap.

Naked pockets inside lay thin and sick

as the material weeps over knees

and waits.

Foreign hands curl gently and lame;

they fall loose, then rise

as jacket smothers hair and face

and becomes engulfed

in a smell that stains the fabric

from the outside.

Silence on the Borderlines

Logical annotations

To fixed memoirs

Lay on the table.

So subtly label

The experiences into emotion.

Of toil and struggle,

And the laughs of faces

That no longer

Smile.

Lost decaying touch

Fell dead with colour

And leak,

The intended saturation

now weak

And pretending never to exist.

Words we never said,

Words we were too afraid to say

Once we said good bye

Rot on the raining fence.

Stuck, hooked on the spikes between us,

Blowing away in the wind.

You and I

In no more words than

An angry whisper,

Killed the garden we shared,

And slaughtered the keeper.

So that it would grow with weeds,

And then into nothing.

But sometimes I catch your eye,

As you weep in between the trees,

Still tangled by my thorns

Still afraid of new seeds.

And I have sown many more

Bad roses that have wilted.

But when I look into the sky

I see a world untouched by my hand.

I see a world where birds fly,

And colours sing in infinite prose.

Affixed associations,

But escapist intentions

Burn paper by moonlight.

Romanticised hallucinations

Or tangible realisations

Softly suggest

A new way to move from the chess board

Into a snug chair by the fireplace.

High bookshelves stand grand on all the walls,

Crisp, tender new words,

Kiss unknown philosophy gently.

I feel the waves of cold sea

Touch warm toes

Naked hands no longer curled around

Empty glass bottles.

Instead, those bottles are buried in the sand,

Their labels still on the outside

But the corners begin to peel away until

They are all the same,

No longer distinguished.

And that's how I will remember,

The box with your name

that will always hold

All of those memories.

But no longer painful,

As I cut off the canopy

and let the sun fall onto my face.

I still peer over the fence,

And hope that someday,

You too will see the sky

But in your own way.

And feel the gentle breeze,

Not choked by leaf and dirt,

But calm and sweet

In your orange lion mane.

Brush-Painting

Brush marks parchment with a slap of ink

Staining like a permanent burn,

Shades of nothing become embroidered into a new harmony,

Lively symbols

Of entangled symmetry.

Painter smiles,

Daring to curve and sweep his brush wildly

Fulfilling his need to deliver

An honest message

In a fury of passion.

Wounds of love

CRUNCH!

Teeth snare

Encoding data

Transmit

Into the apple.

Pulse of sound

Replays.

CRUNCH.

Teeth snare

Into apple.

Then withdraw,

Dividing flesh

To attack core.

Drunk

On bitter sweet sour

Green blood.

A thirst, a devious hunger,

For another taste

Of a broken structure.

CRUNCH.

Teeth snare

Into apple.

Another--

CRUNCH!

Fangs dig

Into apple.

Lips kiss leaking apple.

DUMP!

Remains discarded

Deep, dark bin.