Sometimes, you’re hard to grapple,

lights flicker, nobody home, candle’s thrill

on this side of dark. It’s taken

this long but I dove

into this version of lonely

in a world where you won’t initiate.


Words aren’t in the language we initiate

and it’s worse at night where I grapple

with silence. Lonely

was face-planting. Thrill

has died – dove

into the abyss. Taken


by the concept of being taken,

those unexpected moments of closeness. Initiate

my heart. Aim straight for the target. He dove

into the outer skirts. Crash landed. Clumsy. Clothes grapple

and I want it, I do but the thrill

isn’t there. Crashed. Burned. Lonely


in the same space. Lonely

with the concept of us. Taken

for a consolation prize. No. I win. Thrill

the desire, the want to initiate

fighting, fingers unbuttoning, grapple

with the afterthought before I dropped. Dove


into stopping it. We dove

and no longer fought. Lonely?

We let it happen. Grapple

for others instead. Ghosts taken,

she’s no longer there. You initiate

with the only remaining thrill.


The new found, old kind of thrill,

I wait for him. He, instead, dove

into someone else. Lost in their own form of initiate

position insert. Left me lonely

with my heavy thoughts. They used to be consumed, taken

by only you, but I grapple


for the lost us, the thrill of a grapple

gone. The form of initiate now lonely.

He dove from me, my love was taken…


Song Lyrics…

Fire burst from inside her.

She trod on the flames

And walked in stardust.

Thunder in her throat,

Lightning in her hair,

She’s a danger to my heart.

Those eyes like moons,

Crescent and full.

She’s a night angel –

Wings from flowers

And stems for socks.

Are my insides in trouble?

Dragons ate from her palm,

She’s got me like putty,

Mould be into the guardian you need,

Back off knights –

She’s all mine.

We’re crestfallen and in pain at midnight.

Flutter now

Out come all the love

She’s held inside.

Oh, my love,

I’ll build us a castle

From the ashes.

We’ll ride this dragon into the sunset.

Does my touch

Hold the key

To the cage

Around her heart?

Stranger Street.

I’m used to being stared at.

I’m not beautiful,

I just have a crazy fashion sense.

That colour

And that one

Don’t exactly match.

But, then,

I never felt right

In ‘normal’ clothes


Maybe that’s rooted


In my whacked-up DNA.

But. That’s for another day.

Please, go ahead.


I’ve been told this ‘look’ suits me.

Bet you couldn’t pull it off.

Shall we see?