Pretty

The knowledge of the fallen has faded with the passing of time

Flowers wilted where once woven with petals and pollen

All of our eyes close in the end forever

A reflective pause, some welcome respite from a bitter breeze

Bad news comes like the post of another person

Beautiful babies with nothing but dreams

Unspoiled and perfect

Clean eyes and warm milk

Living on a diet of cinnamon and petals

Generous and growing

The future of you is seamless

Like a dress with a snag

I’m just a little boy

In a man’s skin

Because I’ll sprout from sleep-drops

And swallow the leaves

A speck of dust on horn rimmed glasses

And I personally evaporate

The rhythm of the rain

Glistening like a mirrored puddle

You answer only questions

And ask only answers

And I can’t bear to break your flowered face

Made of fair china, this immaculate smile

Your ebony hair, the most delicate strands

 From the woods in the winter

The heat from your embers keeps me warm through the sleet

You find a way for me to undress under the moon

And melt away my anxiety and fragile demeanour

And help me to accept

A false membership to a declining generation

I’d like to rewind and adopt a new face

Where I can find footage of a memory

Taped over some old cinema film

But the sentiment is dripping from the source

And I simply can’t let myself go

And forget them, the lady I love and don’t think she knows

Our different realities are realms of habit

But she knows I love them still

And would do anything

Just to see you her smile

Rings of roses, summer holidays and teacups

when we all fell over together

And just seeing you smile

Dandelions and Hatred

She knows her eyelashes are painted

And her stories are a pastel of plurals

She knows that her nightmares are simply that

She knows she sleeps when she wakes

And dreams with her smiles

But he, he is just a he

Working away at bread in the pantry

An apron of Opel and a smile of glass

He likes to wander off in her reflection

The lanterns of her eyes guiding

But he, is just a he

And they, they swim in the crescent of moonlight

And float away gracefully, homelessly

In full abandon and on ships of tattered sails

and a heavy eyed captain with red painted tails

With sleep tripping on his woes

As if tomorrow never knows

Where to find him

As he took off his clothes

Smelt a smell with his nose

She knew where to find him

Bewitching with her powdered praise

The pollen of his younger days

The dandelions, and the hatred

She felt his frown with a knowing eye

Holding him, and asking why

He’s the only man he knows, who hates him

And he withers wittering on

And by the end of his third song

She tells him all about

The hating

And she too sings cheerlessly

Speaking to him endlessly

Kissing his mind until she wakes him

And dusting pollen from his eyes

He’s taken back, and he’s surprised

He let the sleep senorita

Take him.