Hungry people and broken dreams

To be clear
I am only jealous of the people who get to spend a lot of time with you.
A lot of time being, like, more than an hour.
And of the kids you went to school with.
And maybe of the teachers a tiny bit.
And of the phone operators who phone to offer you loft insulation during dinner.
And of any shopkeeper that you have ever given money to
and whose eyes may have looked at your eyes when you said thank you
and they said you're welcome
and who you may have smiled at as they put the products you had purchased into a carrier bag.
And of the bus driver who may have driven the bus that one time you may have had to get the bus
because your car was being fixed.
And of the man who fixed your car.
And who sat where you sit and put his hands
on the steering wheel that your hands have touched.
And of the handbrake for that matter.
And of your toothbrush.
And of any glass you have sipped water from.
And of the gloves you wear when its cold.
And of the scarf you tie round your neck and that you sometimes tuck your chin and mouth inside when the air is bitter.
Oh to be that fucking scarf.
And I am jealous of you most of all.
You who gets to spend more time with you than anybody else.
You who gets to see you when you look in the mirror
and who gets to say 'thats me' when pointing at photographs that you're in.
You who gets to wake up each morning oblivious to the fact that I spend most of my days thinking about how jealous I am that I don't get to wake up next to you.
I'm probably jealous of your pillow too.
And by probably I mean without any doubt whatsoever.

One hundred and forty

The sky,
un ruined by street lamps,
unfurled into future 
that wasn't promised to us,
but invited us in
as we sat,
talking loud behind glass.

A step forward

Entirely yours

Interpret

In my dream I was in a room
with a swimming pool
and there were crowds
in arm bands and goggles
and there was no gap for me to swim
and I was two hours late for an appointment
but I waited my turn anyway
and I was still waiting when I woke up.
I doubt it means much of anything.

Human

That there 
are people
who care so little
for people
and who find solace
in their unhappiness
and who seem content
to wrap themselves
in self
and live
knowing
that we lost our way
back to each other,
and are fine to stop the search,
fills me with a sort of dread
that is so consuming
I can do little more than
sit as it rises like water
and swallows all the air
in the room where I sit.

End

And now I am sitting on the other side
and waiting,
as if waiting was akin
to digging my feet into the ground,
and that in doing so
I could turn today into 
once before
and start from then,
over,
and live inside each minute
knowing each one
would build hours
that would shape
who I was bound to become
in the days after those 
I was trying to dig holes
down into
so my feet would have a place to rest
and so I would have the time
to come to terms with what I already knew.
That the days had already become my past
and I was living inside a ghost,
floating between worlds
that neither started or ended
where the others began.

A step forward

I made a decision
and,
without thinking reasons no,
said yes
and went regardless
of reasons not to
and the time had come
and the plates had shifted
and that's how I knew
that Rome was the answer. 

This instead of that

Days are filled with words
instead of actions
and when the balance shifted
I looked clear
of the debris that was left behind
and imagined myself free
from its consequence.

July sees change

I am no different than he.
Made up of the same parts and
living in the same time,
albeit with different eyes,
and yet he takes strides
and projects forward
what he wants forward to be
whilst I sit
frightened it will never be
what I thought it might become
if I were strong enough to try.
It has to change.
I will make the change
and the change is coming.

We were then and we remain then, even when the tides change

I am not a great side of me
when you stand in front of me
with my days held in pink hands
and ask if I want to walk
to where the sea was
when the sun came up
and wait until it comes back
and makes a home around our feet.
I am not a great side of me
because I say yes
and I can't anymore
and I shouldn't have
as much as I did.

It is what it is

It recently dawned on me, 

recently being about forty seconds ago,

that life is almost entirely meaningless 

and all of the goals we set

are just ways to fill time

until we die. 

Whatever it takes

He tucked his shirt into old black trousers,
ran a comb through his hair,
looked into the mirror,
took a box of matches from the draw by his bed
and put them into his top pocket.
He had decided to live today in honour of James Dean
and as he slid his arms into his coat
he swore for a moment that he heard him whisper
that it was going to be fine.
The sky was the colour of sand.

Before, after

He climbed into the back of the car,
lit a cigarette with a match
and watched as ashen smoke filled
the space between glass and leather.
As the car danced through traffic
he rolled a window down half way,
let the city lure the grey ribbons
into its arms
and blinked more often than he needed to.
It was a little before 6.30.

Flight 52:12, A journey through the Jubilee years

I'm in a show, Flight 52:12, A journey through the Jubilee years, at The Stables Theatre in Hastings on June 22nd and 23rd. I have painted the Queen from each decade to celebrate her reign, each of which will line the Theatre walls. Prints will be available to buy if you so choose and I think I'm going to make some greetings cards also, just in case.

Thanksgiving

Thank goodness
for those who put their
hands under your chin
and point your face
towards an up
that,
for longer than a second,
you had forgotten
was even there.

A beginning of sorts

It started
and so he waited

and in that time he was branded
broken in two halves
by those who knew him once before.

He had walked to the building
and passed flowers growing
through cracks in the wall.

It had reminded him of them,
that morning everything had.

As he walked he grew tired
and was fast forgetting
it hadn't always been a chore.

That had made him more sad
than anything else.

All day

I am a wreck

that you could not love,

and did not insist

on an alternative.

Your hands are clean

and your eyes look upwards

and your heart is light. 

And I am weak and small 

and mine is heavy and filled with questions

that never had answers at the beginning,

nor beat resolution in time with my breath.

I am an awkward silence 

that cannot forget

I am alone. 

I am alone. 

4.50

It was twenty minutes
after half past four
when he closed the window
and walked backwards
down a corridor
that was lined with photographs
that meant more than the memories
that were inside of them.
'Whatever you can't do, I will'
he had said
but words weren't always
what one was listening for
and they had fallen short
of just enough,
again.

Said and done

'I painted tears on your cheek'
he had said once,
'and I couldn't do us happily
and I won't live inside of you
or through you,
behind your eyes
looking out,
and I was not free
though I told you I was
and it was all that I wanted
underneath what I had.
But I looked in the wrong place
and then stayed there.
I love you and it doesn't matter.'
He paused,
took my shoulders in his hands
and pressed down a little.
'We told the wrong story
and that's all there is to it.'

Learnt

It has been made crystal
that there is a picture
much bigger
than the one I have been
walking around inside
and building walls upwards
towards a grey sky
with the ideas I had,
and that when we step in unison
we grow paths
and breathe forwards
and climb over
what is perceived to be
most in our way
and I knew it to be true
before today
but I closed my eyes
and imagined a new truth
where one
was more than plenty
and was all that I needed.

Epiphany

It is never absolute
and there is not one way
to get from here
to a there
that has been nurtured
by a past
that had been lived
inside a light that shone
cheering
louder than the ones
who told you that
what you had was plenty
and that you should
rest easy
with what there is
already.