A selection of poems by LUKE GRIFFITHS.

II

Nurse your pain with chocolate milk and sprinkles
Till your belly is full with chocolate joy
Until you feel the pain no more.
Roll to bed bloated, unaware of why your love ever left.

XV

Treescapes melt into one
River flows by
My stomach is blocked
Vile bile obstructs my vision.
Cleanse me in the water.
Please.

Magpie

Sat on your own, I feel sorrow
Fly away I
Am left alone.
Cold fog
Ices the pain
A bed of nails
Would offer respite.

Image courtesy of Luke Griffiths.

Death Dance

It’s a rush that takes over the heart.
Tears become reabsorbed and shot out as adrenaline
Pumps through your veins.
Another time round the dancefloor you go.
How many times until the lesson is learnt?

I

It’s cold. I walk outside disillusioned. I have tried every gimmick. Every quack, book, yoga posture, tea, therapy, exercise, philosophy. Yet I am spent. Fed up. What they promised was not mine to have nor theirs to give. The mould I’ve been made to fit has finally shattered into one million tiny fucking pieces. I don’t feel a sense of relief, though. I feel broken, shattered and scattered across the grass like dirt. Maybe one day some life will take root—by then, I will be long gone. My senses are numbed from my highest vertebrate down. I feel like I can’t breathe. The icy air burns my lungs. I can’t decide whether my senses feel hot or cold. Eyes in the darkness feast upon me. I hope someone behind those peeping eyes actually cares. I know that no one does.

Image courtesy of Luke Griffiths.

 

Featured image courtesy of Luke Griffiths.