1. The incidents you aren’t allowed to discuss, particularly if you are a
man; the emotional dogma of living; the gooey shite.
One
the swirls of emulsion on the wall
wont miss your running fingers;
the dead flies on the windowsill
won’t miss your complaining;
the water from the shower-head
has forgotten the curves of your body;
the chair you wrote in
will slowly lose your imprint;
the photos you will never see again
are the only things that remember the colour in your eyes.
had i known you were about to leave
i would have tidied the house
since your smell has matured into a toxic sitting.
its too late in the day for that nonsense
so your aura can stay even if you won’t.
as is expected, i will leave the door unlocked
so the possibility of your murderous return is unobstructed.
Two
nobody falls to pieces, really
our solid state changes –
we become a liquid form
so barium heavy
unable to be caught
by God.
Lovey Shite
i just want the delicate dreams
the naughty nightmares
the sweet dreamy demise that i deserve.
remind me of earlier
when we would walk
through ocean’s lips,
Helios’s grip
on our way home
to my favourite place:
the bedroom at the top of the stairs.
i had never in my life been so far away from judgmental glares.
i’ll wait by the sepulcher
bring yourself
– the job is yours
Art
dying is not
a method of eradicating you.
dying is an art form.
an art form in which brush strokes
are unacceptable. kiss yourself
with a knife.
create art with your crimson oil.
the carpet is your hue to change
i would love to kill you myself
to watch your blood tango,
tango and dye the bed sheets
you masturbated on.
i have had to kill you
and i didn’t have to love it –
but i did.
only because my masterpiece is complete
and we are both so happy.
this is not auschwitz
more of a cessation of lesser-life.
Kitty
oh kitty you bastard
your body was unexplored
undocumented and fruitful.
i knew you were coming for me –
pearl harbour, perhaps?
after your kissing kamikaze sweep
on my brow
i was dizzy
unable to keep myself standing
with the irreparable damage.
the walls around me melted
with a hot touch.
let’s hold hands
and watch this whole thing fall apart.
i became very good friends
with the curb
with your foot
that you clamped on my chest.
at a loss to keep hold
of the breath under my chest
i wished i could have killed you
but
that would have been suicide.
i’m not ready for the commitment.
the commitment of death.
the death of you. truthfully
there is little that i am ready for.
imagining such a blessing
would be a sadomasochistic crime.
the thought of such a blessing, however,
lingers like your perfume – a sillage.
there is no wind to carry it away
there is no distraction
no destination or required location.
you pulled the chain connected to the plug
so we could drown together.
i’ll be right back.
but you did not return.
Journey
i heard your body
crooning for me
you were begging
to be unravelled
explored so delicately.
Biological Beatdown
love that echoes
in my eyes. a heart
that beats mine
to a pulp.
good girl.
don’t stop.
venomous kisses
of yours that
react slowly
with my mind.
don’t stop.
your words
your words
shouldn’t scare me,
that is the job of
thoughts i cannot release.
don’t stop.
I’m Coming, Ganges
my corpse relaxes
with sore
untouched lips.
the river’s hum
gently whispers
on my leg’s side.
i can see God.
he doesn’t care –
that’s why i’m here.
Pebble
when your bones crack
i imagine i am walking
on sea shells.
the rush of love
as you smile
seems to envelope the world
causing it to blossom.
each time i attack your lips
i embrace the taste
of lilies feeding on blood.
it upsets me that
nature can be manipulated
in such a way
that destruction can
appear so humanely natural.
Death Metal
isn’t it strange
that if you wish
to remove a song
from your head,
you are to listen
to it repeatedly,
but, with a person
it only kills you
h a r d e r.
Untitled
don’t roll away from me
i hate being under the covers alone –
molested by asphyxiation.
i’ve had a long life,
particularly today.
2. Blindfolded and wandering through the forest during a snowstorm. I
have tried to explain this collection of poetry but believe me, I
cannot. Some, I am sure, do not even make sense. Take them as they
come.
Untitled
your blood
it takes a moment
to spend as much time
on my tongue, as the words
“i love you”
Untitled
it was a vile, sunny day
that i spent with naked, blistered feet.
we stood amongst the nettles
and a few of our pet bees.
it is just a simple amalgamation
of spit and chewed food.
but when you participate
in kissing me, i become.
my mind begins to gently torture me.
my teeth grind
i make another attempt
at trying to figure out
exactly what or who you are
Untitled
it doesn’t count
when i trample on flowers
because they can’t resist.
you can and it upsets
everyone even more
because you’re beautifully whimsical
but filled with toxins
you have that enticing
straw on your neck
that i can’t help but suck at
3. So, when you go for a run, and you have that really clear, spicy
breath of air at the back of your mouth, the one that makes you
salivate rather heavily; that’s what these are all about – slightly
discomforting but you know they are good for you.
Untitled
you know, Honey
if it rained
every time joy
spread your cheeks
i would drown
with a similar
expression of content
4. These are based around strangers you fall in love with in the street
and never see again; they are also based around the people you spend
your life with. Again, the gooey shite.
Untitled
just because your hair
lies on the ground
embellished in betrayal,
does not mean
at all
that the rest of us
have forgotten about your beauty
Untitled
your naked flesh
concealed by destructiveness.
a blow of amalgamated couth insults
flows delicately from your mouth.
i was worried i would see you leave
heaving your brogues,
scorning and scolding
over cold, collected cobbles
but you hobbled happily,
the drunken jive,
over to my corner of the bar.
i really wish you hadn’t
Blossom
as you do
the first flower of spring
in a field of withered dreams and memoirs
you left before my ticket was valid.
a collage of cottages habitually unkempt by the sea
eroded and swept – my hand is dry
adieu, adieu, adieu
i wave powerfully
but no crooked eyes have noticed me.
5. Here, I have attempted to join beauty with the physical appearance –
discuss.
Untitled
i still find strands of your lily pink hair.
it’s 11:45 at night.
it isn’t long for my wishes to take a hold of the icy tail in the deep
infinite shower above me and everyone else.
your blood was sticky.
dried lips were positive to a negative.
my hands were scaly from the rope burns.
what do you expect?
i was too afraid of letting go.
i was reassured.
none of this was my fault.
i did not intend to enter Alice’s wonderland and see you for myself.
the mysticism, clarity, starvation, abstract nature you throw at me
leaves me burning yearning calling shouting blistering growing aching
horny climbing clawing hiking sprinting for something else from you.
you are always enough
you are never enough
Words – Luke Nutt
Pictures – Alfie Verity
The University of Salford Writer's Journal 