Burned

I recognise this place
I've seen the flaking paint before
    The walls were
    More private then
Stained from nicotine nights
Half moon mornings
    Lighters relatively hidden.
    Causing calm in times of trouble
Night dawns on me holding a shovel in one hand,
Plant hole for the heart seed,
Earth filled with apathetic fumes
         Suck it up
              Feel the burn
                  Let your lungs learn of
Life.

Through the hole in a rough cut sky
                stars
began as stepping stones
           two flattened back adventures
Pinpricks remain in holy hope
From a cave of your creation
            Stuck in a web with no gravity.

When Dawn peeps into curtain,
Let sun make skin scars on your melanin
Were I more savvy
I'd have worn protection,
I knew this place
I knew the tightness of a
skin-grafted heart
asthmatic breath rises up slowly.
Sun of eternal love,
She says to me
You've failed again,
Love.

Turn towards cold
Back to the warmth
Don't you walk away from me
Look me in the eye
Til we are both searing
Iris bound in weaponry, look at me. 

I saw white spots
         When you left
Blinded by the lightness
         Of perfection in her power
I left my heart cowering
In the corner
         Took my bit lip
         Took my leave
Cringe a little
As colleagues see Red
On nose and cheeks.
     colour that
     Torn wallpaper
     Under layered paint
Let melancholy be.

Look straight ahead do not look back,
head up spine straight
Dignity is harder than they'll have you believe,
feel less like a jester
Crying in a crowded train
Than alone with you, again
So here,         have my final desert
Nothing behind the shimmering mirage
after all
delirious stumble into the dark

The door creaked as I crossed the threshold,
World unable to hold my weight,
Collapse inside a sagging wall,
Pray for isolation,
FUCKOFFLIFE
let me wither for a second,
      Let the insides curl into gangrene,
      Fall off into an acid pit
      Make my peace with a death wish
      Aimed at Cupid

I have been here before,
Seen these skirting boards
show their chips, show me
How they came to be forgotten,
painted over
how they played the game
to conform to wall survival

       I'm certain the attic is calling me
Wander my feet instead
       To the basement
Let out some of the flashing red
Stuff cotton wool in my eyes to stem
Incessant weeping
Paint with the abandon
Of the devil
For hours.

Dishevelled I emerge,
Circles round my sight,
An urge to call my mother
Passes
Light up my medicine instead
Begin the forgetting process
Build a new foundation
                         Again