Self-Portrait

Wednesday

Choking on a Lego brick - inspired by Psychotic.


I promised her I'd construct my next piece of writing out of Lego blocks.

So I'm sticking together the primary colours, building a shelter out of the warmth of red, happiness of yellow and dreams of blue.

The house of cards can not possibly compare to the domains of an imaginary childhood, rented memories I don't want to return.


The tectonic plates are yet to test their strength on my new home.


Even they excite in the event of your smile...


James May had the right idea. Please don't demolish my plastic palace as well...

Monday

She taped the house of cards together
to protect it from the wrath of the tectonic plates.
But when the wind whispers, we all go down together.
I have evidence that it's just the two of me; no weeds growing through the debris for me to either feed or uproot.
Self-destructive celebrations are always the most enjoyable.

Saturday

I think there's another person inside me.

And I don't want to murder it, like he does.
How could he not already love the life that's growing there, like I?

We are babies ourselves.
Perhaps the life I'll give will take care of us and help us grow up, into the adults we're supposed to be?

It's not even definite. I'll find out next weekend...

All I know is, I'll be devastated if I am... And heartbroken if I'm not.

If I end up devastated... Whose life do I sacrifice?
Mine, or yours?

Friday

My friend Shadow


Shadow tries to slip away

So she sews him to my sole

A dim reflection of me he is

Like a dark visual echo


In certain light he multiplies

In darkness he escapes

But the revenant returns again

In reflected hostile shapes


Sometimes he walks afore me

And other times behind

But within my heart I know

He's there, and in my mind


Shadow tries to extricate

Tugging stitches which bind us

And all I wish to eradicate

Are the memories which defined us


Shadow tried to slip away

And this time he succeeded

I miss his darkness dancing

Because it's what my soles have always needed.

Tuesday

Please go back underground.

You were conceived by tectonic plates, dancing life into your foetal form.
And you danced with your parents beneath the earths crust, and you danced your way up through the cracks and mess they made.
You danced upon the rubble, and now you dance upon me.
When will little girls learn to not play in the world's wreckage?
It would be so easy to slip between the cracks and quake it all.


How much higher will you go?
Can I come dance with you on the clouds?
Please?

Sunday

And I raise my head to the coruscating firmament, breathing smoke signals to whichever divine entity cares to decipher my message...

Incorporeal foetal words inside me, begging to be given birth to.
Perhaps I'll go to the hospital, release this life into the blank pages in which they belong...

My baby, it was an accidental abortion. I will endow my life upon you, trade my breaths for your imaginary existence.

We are only guilty of loving too much.

Tuesday

If we are 95% our surroundings, you must be me.


I eviscerated myself and flushed my being away.

Disintegrating, deliquescing.

Particles of me dancing with the fishes.

Particles of me reforming, into the jellyfish I've always been.

It dignifies my nothingness; my lack of heart, brain and lungs.

Come and swim with me in tsunami lake, I'll enclose my tendrils around you in an everlasting embrace.

You'll learn to bloat like I have, my fishy friends will devour you like they'll soon be devoured.

The sirens won't sing for you, music is a privilege of the living.

Surgical gills on your wrists, allow my vampiric tendrils to kiss them better...


I am 95% water. The other 5% is you.
I should have been born beneath the waves.
Mummy and daddy could tell, so my name tells all.
Kiss the floating stars in the coagulating sea.
Wish upon the pretty ones, they shoot into infinity
And escape this liquid coffin.
I wish I could shoot myself too.
Or find my home, with the other jellyfish and Coral plants...

Sunday


You remind me of the lessons the kaleidoscope taught me.

I never knew such beauty could shine through the plethora of sharded glass.

Cavorting with you in our golden tube, showered by the rainbows of a future memory.

A nicotine kiss in the crystal smoke reminds me of the lessons you're about to teach me.



A diamond embedded in your chest, piercing excruciating passion through the bars of the bird cage. Who let her go?

I leave this diamond here in her memory, and a withered rose for the dead.

I slumber, somnambulating in concentric circles between the bars of bones, awaiting the revenant's return.

She's already here, isn't she?



Excuse me, it's just my peculiarity of painting disease pretty,

with my can of words and brush of lips.


Saturday

Pretty little blister kiss.

We're spinning again, can you feel it?
The paper wind rustling all around us,
Yesterday's newspaper's screaming in our ears,
The infinite cliches compressing our heads together,
Your cells imbued with mine,
Colours clashing and cavorting in the desert rain,
Drenched in disease and happiness,
Who is left to turn to?
Who is right to turn to?
Turning, turning, turning on the axis again,
Away from their world this time,
No longer watching detached,
The audience absconded and constructed their own puppet theatre
Out of lint and butterfly wings,
The puppets spinning on their spiderweb strings,
Our strings entangling, a bloody mess of mangled knitted limbs on stage
Aborted road-kill at the gates,
A dome of lies to shelter us and shatter us,
The invisible worms consuming our innards,
Eviscerating the containers of innocence,
Digesting us,
Shitting us,
Recycling us on the earth to be reborn again
On our bed, our flower bed...
O Rose, thou art sick...

We consummated our loathing like lovers;
Like Heathcliff fucking Cathy's corpse.

I have enough blood and noise to paint with now, thanks.
But I don't want to paint any more.