SYNESTHESIA

In between the mundane seconds of a yellow Sunday afternoon and the stale poppies melting on my ill windowsill I hear your grey voice rushing in sea waves Echoing in my brain's camphoraceous caves Conquering my body like it's a war zone fighting for my sanity And the faces of your face are rip-offs clinging …

UNDER MY SKIN

I let you under my skin flowing and pouring, growing and gushing Now my brain is bursting, my heart is exploding I catch my breath; Whilst you outrun my death You are all over my spaces, You are the flavour of my creative juices  

I’D WRITE ABOUT YOU

Maybe my words don't have value as much as yours... but I'd still write about you. I'd write about you on empty music sheets and dusky dawn, through the corners of an old hallway, through freezing glass windows on a Monday morning, through sunsets and good nights that were never said. I'd write about you …