#notastalker

What’s for dinner?

It bubbles away

Like a pot in the background

Simmering over flame

It’s almost audible.

Tucked away for safe keeping

In the kitchen

Boiling.

The flavours getting stronger

And stronger

Intensifying.

I can feel the heat

Rising

Roaring

It burst out of the pot

Demanding my attention.

I turn

And there’s only the pot,

Quietly bubbling away.

I make people burn Apparently And shake Shake down Through You? It could have been you It could Still Be Still Tonight Just watch the light From a million years ago Gently illuminate The face of the moon Brightening your eyes As the ground you stand on flies Through nothing But this is our everything It's all.

Trapped in movement

Alabaster wolves Snap at my heels Desolation wasting The teeth are waiting For me to fall Down But up Up I go Though up seems to be straight ahead Flat Ahead There is no up I run in the same spot But the teeth are always there

Lioness

I was disappointed

Disappointed in a way I never had been before

I gave you my love and support

And you gave me your best

But your best

Through no fault of your own

Could not contend

You were robbed

Of what should have been yours

And despite what happened between us

You still have

Me

Thirteen - a retrospective

The innocence of youth Left me then I understood That we all Co depend It might end my pain But It would increase theirs The fear had taken hold And entered my mind Overdramatising My situation in life It was bad But it would get better Now I had no need To write that letter

Are you prepared for this undertaking?

You've shown no sign that you are prepared for this gelatine product, Which is a good thing because you clearly couldn't handle a body of such voluptuousness

The spectator

I feel Old And through that age I feel Alone Yet not lonely More like I've been taken somewhere I never asked to go And left there But still in full view Of everyone

Subversive social commentary

...we’re fucked.

I'm finding that as I get older Getting older feels divine Now I don't believe in the divine There's just no better word to describe The feeling of age in my mind Now sun is dead ahead And the road is behind. I'm being blinded, Is this the cost of freedom? Too much coffee And not enough sleep Black. Light. Spots. Peaks don't help when Stars are staring you down And December is no place For tinted lenses

A final question, begun

"Shall we begin" "How Fucking Dare You?" The beast, enraged by a seemingly random and unfounded accusation, snarls, fangs bared. The boy, not understanding, much like the beast, what has been asked, but presuming the worst, cowers, and pulls himself up onto the chair. The man, dumbfounded, just sits there, and stares at the painted man, as if querying the query, with a slight tilt of his head, but otherwise his face portrays no emotion, once again stuck between his two companions.