Monday, 23 February 2009

dear you

and we ate all the late night pizza that our teeth could swallow
and we watched all the late night shows that our eyes allowed
and we drank all the bottles that our wallets could afford (which wasn't very much back then)
and we held tight when everything so right seemed so far away.
and we ate noodles in the evening (and the morning and for lunch)
and we watched the same shows twice a day
and we laughed about the same jokes which really weren't that funny
and we stayed up later just to prove a mooted, muted point.
and we never thought to say goodbye
and we never thought to stay in touch because we always would be
and we never needed words to say just how we felt
and we never made the plans we'd planned to make
and we never took the steps they wanted us to take
and we always smiled and never growled
and we always argued, never shouted,
and we always danced to stupid songs
and we always slept in late and woke up later
and we always locked the front back door before the morning rose.
and we rarely tidied up
and we barely caught the sunrise
and we rarely took the rubbish out
and we never ever cleaned the kitchen floor.
but tonight i'm drinking bleach
and sucking tongues
and feeling young despite my age
and remembering the times when we were here together
and we ate all the late night pizza that our yellow teeth could swallow
with no thoughts of tomorrow or the next day or the last.

memories make movies

drunk in my room - and cold as well -
i hide from the moon that sits behind the curtains.
hero worship at this age was never my idea,
but still my shoulders shake - from temperature, in awe -
because you saw more than i could ever see, have ever seen, will ever be.
don't wake me up from this pathetic dream.
don't call me names that i'm unfit to be.
don't run away from everything that i failed more than you to see.
the vodka makes night darker,
makes teeth clatter in the inside breeze,
makes hidden thoughts reveal themselves too real - and then to reel.
memories make movies,
but the kind always forgotten,
like the morning after the night your parents die.
better off alone and sworn to secrecy.
cry yourself to sleep to childlike lullabies.