What a Flirtatious Constellation

Our sky, ruined by clouds and streetlights A flirtatious constellation A lunar consultation Of two kids questioning Everything it means to live..

I’ve been flirting with Death And she offered me a trade A bottle and a kiss For my final day. So I took off the cap And I threw back my head I pressed my lips against her And said ‘I’m better off dead’. To die by your hand, my dear To die in your embrace Such a fitting end, my love With such a fitting taste. But you can’t kill a dead man Although she did try I guided without success she simply numbed my insides. She grew tired of trying And she dismissed my hand What faith can I have When even death can’t love a dead man?

Heaven soaked with the blood of angels Skin pierced with shattered halos Baptize me in cancerous filth Pervert yourself in youth and wealth Bless the hungry whilst laced in gold This newest testament begins to unfold Your holy clergy covered in bile Yet you lap it up in sweet denial. We tested faith and wore your crown Tight and deep the thorns came down Brand me with your burning cross Come on forth and reap the pus Siphon through to your brimstone altar Towards the mass you begin to saunter You turn and see a young mind desist As you find me hung from your crucifix You brush it off. “A heathen child” Yet it’s a soul’s realisation of it’s own defile Preach a sermon with a needle in your vein Spewing out venom to invoke disdain. Walk on water and we’ll watch you drown I extend no hand - “Where is your God now?”

Fog in granite eyes Makes statues weep corrosive tears Self mutilating solid stone Eroding slowly over all these years Marble bleeds a vivid red Yet will still refuse to scream Marble scars like soft skin Stone cloth still tips at the seams Cracks in slate leave eternal wounds Abrasive winds wither limestone hearts No hope for broken moulds Return to the earth their shattered parts

To all the stained glass hearts We’re all kids with suicidal thoughts Cursed with car crashed souls Our cracked concrete bones Ever rusting shells Our shared private hell. Our fragile bodies fade like old dreams Another night wasted on dead memories I exist for a second only to obscure again A generation of degeneracy. I waste away. A nightmare And an early morning rise Sunlight splits the horizon A splitting sky for a fractured mind.

I miss the sky, but I’m stuck Watching the mould on my ceiling spread I guess soon I’ll just end up dead Under unwashed bed sheets and the same old clothes I guess my friends will never know Cos I never wrote the letters I asked her to find Then again I guess it feels more ‘me’ to leave with a rude goodbye. I never was one for the summer anyway Every year it’s the fucking same I either can’t move or can’t eat I guess this year I just won’t breathe Tears dry and scars heal But I wanted wounds that would never seal Stitched up or stomach pumped The quickest way out of a lasting rut. I left. Who cares? I’m just ashes in dirt.

You be the victim And I’ll be the car crash. You be the martyr And I’ll be the heart attack. You are a dream land Whilst I am insomnia. You are a warm embrace I am lasting dysphoria. If you are the high Then I am the overdose. You are a good night I’m leaving you comatose.

Afar from the shore, driftwood dances Moving with each sporadic wave Rhythmic in its movements Yet fleeting in its purpose It has no roots to save Wanderlust, it seeks its soil Yet sheds its skin each day Drifting beneath the ocean current Far from light it strays Clouds hinder a moving skylight A fading view amidst the dark The pressure intense But buoyant no more Lost in a black so vast Anchored to the seabed, driftwood sits Forever lost the amongst the waves No dancing is done Nor skylight is seen Another fragment the ocean claims