The Night Gets Wasted
Banned bus seat backseat sovereign serenade
Diligent difference between a limerence renegade
Demons dancing, sober stars separating names
I’m screaming underwater as you burst into flames.
Break a Leg Tonight
I’m operating on the dead doctor with understudy nurses
He’s asking for some saline sedation and anaesthetising curses
Sewn into his own gurney, an advanced state of paranoia
I’ll lie about his terminal condition before I conduct euthanasia.
The Sound of Answering Machines
Settling for the taste of bitter window glass and sweeter tonic lips
Sp hold me down with your merest memory, and take another sip
Celebrate the way the scars constellate in your homemade fantasy
Do you think you’re the only animal who can’t breathe without me?
Pretend to Close Your Eyes
Fade me quietly into what seems to be a broken dead end reverie
Liquid lights leaking into blackened mechanisms, a faltering gallantry
I’ll run away and chase your nightmares, wrap you in a labyrinth
Exit signs crying as hell reads to heaven, you fall asleep in your plinth.
The Taste of Being on Fire
Our symphony written in blood and lipsticks, for a saving grace sonata
Tiring tirades traded, turn away and face the music, persona non grata
Two faces burning into colours, on a sunrise long-dead on the highway
Don’t make me vain for viscid vials of aether to dispel innocent display.