Favour.

To walk a road with your favour

I could almost accept as life in itself.

But truth be told the absence of your affection

Burns the hairs from my face.

 

The soles of my shoes

Lie still in our impact craters.

My calluses got lost in a lie.

I am almost spent.

 

My liver is ruined

But sits hungry within me.

My thighs were emptied on the uphill

But struggle not to let us tumble down.

 

I’m travelling to a wall

That some alien contractor

Has put up to occupy your insides.

If I get there it is with bloody stubs that I’ll scrape on the bricks.

 

Contact at the Bar.

Attempts at contact are made.

Like cutting my own hair,

It feels daft and pointless,

Though it leaves me strangely proud.

 

A girl with a nice accent

Touches my leg at the bar and

Before I know it

I’m telling her about my mother,

Father,

Cat,

Tattoos.

 

She is from Bulgaria.

She is far more fascinating that me.

 

Her boyfriend appears and him and me

Pretend to be interested in our conversation.

He is greasy, she seems apologetic.

I don’t know what just happened.

 

The next morning I remember the arm on my leg,

But none of the conversation.

I’m sure I lied a lot.

Pointless, daft, but strangely proud.

Wants.

I want skin on, skin

In, someone else’s ¬†fleece.

I want to bite her cheek, a cheek, anyone’s.

I want belly to stroke and a handful of tit.

Pubic hair to idle a hand upon and wonder about going further down.

Good god going down…

I want another body to share the depression of my bed.

I want to evolve but worry I’m not.

An infant who wants to be a fetus.

A man shaped toddler.

I want the womb back so I hold my breath

In the bath but my lungs are too fucked to help me pretend,

And I burst from the water

With none of the wanted wonder of a rabid new-born.