Weight of the world
Photomanipulation Feb 2009
Decomposition of time
Feb 2009
I have a frantic whim to get down on my hands and knees, on muddy soil or cold bare stone, to claw back every place that was ours, sweating blood and tears until I’ve destroyed it all. You do not deserve the privilege too share memories with me. and so I thrust, repetitively, my fingers down my already torn up throat, to purge my mind of this intolerable disgrace. You left toxins teeming round my blood, adulterated me to the point of tearful delirium. I torment myself by renouncing present-day comforts, instead voyaging back through time so I can, amputate you like an infected limb, slaughter any part of you that still broods inside me. In hope I might salvage even a second of the time I spent with you or thinking about you. You are the aching in my belly, just an echo of remorse, the decomposition of squandered time. I mourn all those moments that I cannot re-claim. You left a tumour in my heart, slowly decomposing For any chance I have of being happy, will mean carving it out serving back on a plate, Only then might you grasp the reality I DON’T WANT YOU ANYMORE!.
Trip to the water
March 2009
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The pretend romantic
Feb 2009
You pretended to be a romantic.
Whilst insisting outwardly
That “really… you didn’t have a romantic bone in your body”
yet still enticing me with mills and boon tension charged words and
bowling in the odd nonchalant comment about how pretty I was,
you couldn’t help but notice my plunging neckline,
I used to wait up for you,
late at night.
to soothe your mask off discomfort,
at this scandalous situation we found ourselves.
The first time we fucked,
you pretended to cry
and I pretended not to notice the lack of real tears.
I didn’t mind when only a few minutes later,
you forgot your imaginary remorse
and pinned me back against the wall.
I listened to your grievance about your lack of sex life
and domestic hell,
How you aren’t the only man
who’d had an affair and “almost” run off with a younger woman.
Implying,
(that made it all ok).
At the time
I suppose it did.
I longed to rescue you,
telling myself, (and you) that I’d fuck you,
no matter how fat and wrinkled you became,
or how putrid the smell from your sweating torso,
I!...
would be the one to love you unconditionally.
Because
you said
you loved me back
I could picture us growing old,
or at least you’d grow old. I’d be the contented young wife.
People would marvel at how I stood by devoted in the face of old age,
finally agreeing our love was true.
Of course my fantasy curdled,
you predictably traded me in.
I was never the dutiful mistress you’d sought.
With my fanatical nature and inability to keep a secret,
the fact I was determined
you come through with some of those empty promises.
In the end
I was far too high maintenance.
Splitting
2009
algolagnia
2010
I have a deviant art account, if anyone wants to follow me there let me know and I will message you the link.
