Category Archives: spy tales

( k i s s ) .

i’ve got no words,
but if you were here,
i’d be kissing you right now.

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moments between.

missing you
in the moments
between;
because for
every spare minute,
why wouldn’t i
spend it with you?

i wish i was yours.


insomnia + depression.

hardly surprising;
the cliche couple
are such a complementary
match:
the weary inabilty
to sleep, and
the debilitating inability
to care.


manic incompetence.

i don’t remember
the last time.
my fresh energy
– pure and uninhibited –
i’ve forgotten what
it feels like.

instead, luke warm
at best
and otherwise
cold, dark and sticky.

my hands never dry
and yet my nail beds
are rough
and crumbling.

i am so tired
yet full of adrenalin
relentless trembling
plagues my knuckles
like an arthritic matriarch.

the mania comes
but in an anxious
and with reactionary
tention.

no patience,
no concentration,
all fear and no memories.

a quivering
ball of pathetic
incompetence.


[am].

i am alone,
i am apart,
i am numb
and cold
and bored.


reality.

but when
the one you miss
the most,
is the last
person
you should miss
at all;

it is difficult
not to believe,
that every moment
was intentional
deception;
and a humiliating
farce.

the reality is,
they stopped
needing you,
before you stopped
needing them.


bed.

kitten kisses
and fluffy
warmth.

each week
is a countdown:
one of seven
two of seven
three of seven
four of seven
five of seven
…weekend.

bed.
warmth.
silence
but for the
mewing
of my
cosy friend
who wants
for nothing
but kitten kisses
and fluffy warmth.


numb.

i do not
miss
the endless
panic and fear.

i do not
miss
the endless
dread and tremors.

i do not
miss
the endless
tears and adrenaline overdose.

alas, the
replacement
is a dull numbness
and endless insomnia.

i do not
sleep
on holidays;
i do not
sleep
at all.

i do not
miss
the endless
gasps for breath.

but i do
miss
sleep.


c i t y.

something about this
city,
has her dreaming
of all the faces:

the falcon.
the lexus.
the cordoba.
the executive.
the antique.

what awaits tonight?

the escape?
the forest?
the mini?

this city.


stairway.

tell me
to build a staircase
to the depths
of your hell;
through the fire
in your veins;
and the cool darkness
terrorising your brain.

tell me
to build a staircase
and i’ll meet you
below the surface,
where the numbing fog
pools and drowns us.
i can’t save you,
but your heart is safe
with me.