The instructions are simple, she will be waiting in the tower, grateful for the company (any company), ready to give herself to you. Call to her from the bottom, she will transform her maiden hair into a ladder, for the chance of ending her isolation. That desperation will blind her from the pain as youContinue reading “Instructions for Rapunzel’s brothel (poem incomplete)”
Tag Archives: muse
Fragile Potential
Anxiety, temper, buttons. Push, push, push. One more push and it will shatter. This fragile potential you won’t acknowledge as more. Trust is there, but it’s new, unfamiliar. Test it too much and watch it disappear.
Top club
Tap, slip, poke, shove, guide it to the goal and feel the rush of victory.
Absent
A weary head leans to the left for a shoulder that’s not there to support it. Life and distance separates them. But distractions are absent, and the head now mourns for the shoulder it took for granted and let slip away.
Patience
Poke and bang at iron layers. Bashing and grunting to see beneath. Questions and theories to stab and pierce, instead of coaxing and gentle peeling. Any progress made is slammed shut, with a new layer of iron underneath your fingers.
Growing
Slipping from my knowledge, growing out of reach. You coat yourself with foreign smells and mask yourself from me. I glance back fondly at the one you were, and rise to see this new person I no longer recognise. Can I love you all the same? My answer is forever silent.
Streetlamp
Light dawns, and makes your purpose unnecessary. And now you stand in despair, waiting for darkness to cover the world and make you wanted once more.
The Blur
Presence a memory, touch long faded, smell lost in the wind and voice drowned by screaming. A memory or a dream? I no longer know.
poem ideas
Your nakedness shadows our safety. I’m the one left to wait. Emotions cannot be filed, you’re strong because of what you protect. Solidify the presence of flesh, worn so long the weight goes unnoticed. How would it feel, to finally lift it off? Nobody is born whole.
Ocean floor
Hoover of the ocean floor. Water glide, dancing with a mouth he can never see. Only a nose breaking through the surface to greet the salt-free air and taste poison.
Scribbled Thoughts 