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My beautiful one

I will supply you with the armour

The escape plans, the bullet proof vest

Underwired but appropriately covered

You can follow in my footsteps

Well-trodden paths

Of torn minds, broken bones and secrets

Whispered upon deadened, cold, hollowed skin

I will keep you safe my little one

My beautiful one

Don’t be closer to confident than necessary

Don’t ever let the ball drop

Don’t embrace freedom, wind, hope or self-possession

I will teach you the quickest way from the bottom to your feet

Vigilance and accession

Hear my words, weary and earnest

I see the path ahead, hacking at thighs

Chasing the aesthetic

Trying to remember the words that keep you safe my little one

Side stepping and traditional pride

There is a time to please, to appease, to apologise

For the tease, for existence

To apologise for the breasts, and the audacity

To want ownership, to be landed gentry of the manger

To pray less than politely for a lack of invitation from

The testosterone laden entitlement

When you trust him, the deceit still sits

In that firm space between gender specifications and stereotypes

I’m afraid, I’m sorry

Your cunt is forever a bridle, securing avoidance, submission and admission

Firmly in persona

Under his hand

Your mind undermined

In a flinch

Under his hand

I’m afraid, I’m sorry

That you won’t recognise this binding, fixed position

Until he quenches his thirst in your objections, absorbing words into penetration

Wrapped in an ovarian chain of expectation

How to save a life

Small music on my mind

Brings me to you

In a haze of humiliation and bemusement

I remember those drowning days

Of pained misery

Here I am, standing the way I am supposed to be, stilled and silent

Inert for that few moments of relief from the paralysed blood sluggishly driving me away from reality

My mind whispers, an explosion in the silence

I just really want to fucking feel anything but this absence of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

(heart) (head) (hope) (ambition) (noise) (warmth) ( of

My body is battle worn, scarred and no longer up to the challenge of a fluttered eyelash

Without the body, the walls are a thousand years in standing, a thousand ships launched and dashed like hope

This body is cleaved, deformed and moulded now to a fearsome sight

The mind is a bear chewing off its own leg

Absent and running on instinct

Give it all away

I lost count of the number at that cold, calculating age of eighteen

And some months

As another slightly shrivelled disappointment

Pumped the last of its vigour

Into the empty receptacle at three in the morning

Behind the NCCP car park near that little club with the sofas

Before comfort became a necessity in nightclubs

And excess was a necessary outlet for madness

That beautiful insanity that accompanies the absoluteness of that cold, calculating age of eighteen and some months

The number rose, the incessant pounding wearing the walls smooth

Worn, weary, a thousand years of subtle change, to evolve

Lackluster, listless passion dissipating into resignation

Once I was indignant, with the world at my feet and the bay at my mercy

Until I stopped counting the numbers

Once I fucked to all those classic indie songs

They now play on radio two

When they played on radio one

Or not on the radio at all

But in vinyl shops

But in the rooms of boys

I can’t make you stay

Drinking, to keep this sane

It’s the end of love

Faded looks starve the romance

Here I am crushed

Here you are a loathe memory

You were at my mercy

And for one brief moment we composed a melody

Of sorts

Minor and major crescendo

Dusted from my mind

This space, stale sweat burning holes

I fill up on wine and you fill up on wine

I need to find a part of me

To be my saving grace

You make me feel, that’s why I am happier without you

I’m always played out on the down days

Watch me leave

Your life goes on

Mine shrivels a little more

Someday, you find the real thing

I find the isolation lying next to you

Would it be me you are thinking about

Each time you slide wetly into another her

Who doesn’t quite fuck with such desperation?

Who dances to your beat?

Has a warmer touch, a deserving fuck

Dresses to please you, puts on the whole show

You find the real thing

I find the isolation lying next to you

Waiting for you

Waiting for you to watch me leave

Waiting for you to wait for me to stand still

In the dirt, and call you my own

To be washed away

Inside out I leave, you watch

Someday you find the real thing

I come back for a little more

Your life goes on

A pulse where I belong

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