Getting all domestic

This is the kind of place that i could settle

The crackle of the fire and the rumble of the kettle

This is a place to set my stake

the woodsmoke perfume, the limescale flake



Spirals are special, golden ratio indeed

Found in nature of course but in many more aspects of our lives

Spirals in time, each circle made we gather so much more

Spirals of emotion, downward spirals tough to break

Upward spirals to the dizzying heights of success, stardom

Spirals of initiation, slow to start then forever growing,

Passing the same point over and over again but from an ever increasing distance

Spirals drive us, inspire motion; force us ever outward into the world

We are the wood being drilled from the wall so that the screw can be wound in

We get wound up, that spiral of anger turning us up and up

Until we find time to unwind,

And the spiral reaching further and further out into relaxation

Uncoils into content

she’s gone in again

She’s gone in again

Too many cares in that curly hair

That just been crying eyed stare

Tell me all I need to know

The anger misdirected and projected on to the mattress

The springs give in to frustration hapless

Something in her, unable to handle another with care

She reaches for the tissue, thought it was a hug

Look for something in my mug

Too puffy and red to hear what’s said

Can’t make eye contact, empty filter pack

Sods law, couldn’t handle that

Sent me off again

No answers in my tea ill try the wall

Going to miss this room, house, bed

I’ll be fine

Need to call time on this night

Feel blocked

Nose and brain too full of snot

Climb the hallway to the kitchen

Do some thinking

Smoke, cry, brush teeth, back to sleep

Next to her in the sheets

2 inches between us

All my attention in

The toe on my left foot touching skin

She’s gone in again

Curled to the wall

Defensive shaking ball

For her sleep is easy

Me, it beats me

Never where I need it to be


But my eyes shut

Thoughts unlock

and she’s in again.


Why did she have to be Brazilian?

Why did she have to be Brazilian?

Why did we have to go out that night?

Why did she have to dance with me?

Why did I have to have too much to drink?

Why did I have to be looking for revenge?

Why did I have to stay till the bar closed?

Why did we have to walk home together?

Why did her voice have to crack like that?

Why did I have to open her door?

Why did I not borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?

Why did I have to put my arm under her head?

Why did I not just go to sleep?


Why couldn’t I go through with it?

Why couldn’t I kiss her?

Why couldn’t I stop feeling guilty?

Why couldn’t I keep it to myself?

what are you doing?

I cant sleep and I’m writing poems

She really got to you didn’t she?


Well I cant sleep and I’m writing poems

So yeah


Well this is a poem and I’m not sleeping

Maybe you should stop


There is a reason I am writing poems and not sleeping

Shit, yeah, didn’t really think that through


Its alright, maybe ill write this as a poem before bed

Doesn’t it have to rhyme?


Not if you’re writing it to avoid sleeping

Fair point