don’t think just went for it

ok what i got
2 mediums in one evening
i look to the sky i see
the fabled full chord chart constellation
in the stars, of the sky!
up there with the rest of ’em
in their eyes, in your dreams
and i will see you in your nightmares
no, i insist
i wanna be amongst your demons
i wanna be a negative influence on you
i wanna destroy you from the inside, every
day i want to fucking destroy you
watch you melt down around me
and my tears and your melt mix and
then i drink it
and then i breast feed it to
the kids


to be eat to be eaten

i’m a lean, spirited cut of meat, hurled
and i land on your chest and i smell weird
slightly darker in colour, i should be alright to cook
i slide down your chest and drop onto your lap, sat
you sit at your hob and fry me
burn me fry me make me darker
season me, i want to taste good for you
but i can’t season myself because
1. who does that?
and 2.
i am but meat, barely sentient
vacuous metaphor, i wanna be good for you
i wanna taste so good that i surprise even myself


self worth ever-fluctuant but i channel these heights
and i do battle now that i think i’m ready
all against a void backdrop
n they avoid backchat lest
i back track through time and
offend them earlier
as they realise in the present, i revel
in their expression and move on
now that i think i’m ready to best them
in the real world, i read back nodding, i did good
and i am good enough, this christmas

tense fest (so far so good but i’m scared)

the feeling that you may regret this one day
when you’re double your age
with real problems in a world never realer
your responsibilities commanding
priorities, you now never come first
because you took your time and time overlapped
you over invested in things then worth it
priorities changing over the ages
steadily as you grew through the ages
and maybe through ages of repression you grew through
unwittingly you grew deformed, caged in by abstract
boundaries compromising, you took your time
you thought it was right but nothing could ever prepare you for life
and how you’d react to all future strife

fully clothed n goin strong (lyrical littluns)

you’ve done something naughty and you get told off
but you. will learn. your lesson.
tones approach you
very threatening tones
assertive and coarse
rigid and stern
grey and strong and strict
and you’re gettin hosed down by ice-cold discipline tone water
hosed down in the corner and they keep hosin you down
blastin your bare skin now, strict water
and you’re rollin around, in the corner
learnin your lesson being hosed ever closer
to the depths of the corner by tones hosing

all of my eggs falling out of
all of my baskets but people are nice
and people help me
and they mop up my eggs and salvage a few
they cook me ‘eggs breakfast’ and i say UNTO THEM
sorry i am late for work (no really i can’t)

italic brackets as in
brackets in italic
cheeky brackets thinking they can get away with it
but people like me notice
n people like me reckon it’s the romans what did it

oh i’m gonna cook you ‘eggs breakfast’
‘eggs breakfast’ yes ‘eggs breakfast’ but
you’ve got to pay me this time seriously
yeah, that is why i’ve been ‘acting weird’ lately.
(muffled riposte)
yeah well you don’t get to decide about what eggs!
yeah exactly!

pub names:
the cream john
the earl scott
the buck mariner

classic henry! look! it’s classic! fucking! henry!
oh my god here he comes!
hey classic henry! you got any mad beats and/or rhymes for us?
any insights, henry?
sage wisdom essentially, henry.

“it’s the magic classic henry, who-da-thunk-it?

the classic whodunnit in which henry is the murderer
first on the scene investigating
digesting the evidence, classic henry
mister magic classic henry

oozes class, oozes.. how you say.. confidence..
and classic henry drives a rebok
and the future rebok classics
are cars too, classic henry argues
classic cars at that, with special gadgets

pierce brosman as hugh grant as classic henry (from the future)
now that is SO classic henry”

merry christmas!
no, you good christmas!

i glaze it w honey (in moderation all good for me)

need to stop forcing myself
relax and stop waxing
satisfaction never guaranteed
i can’t promise it’ll net me worth
and the more i wish it so, the less it does

never used to have projects this wholesome
to walk home thinking about my stories
and how to finish them
to wake up and wonder if i’ll finish any today
but i feel overwhelmed by choice
and the pressure i put on myself
i’m shut down, caged can’t formulate
i’m no longer a torrent of ideas,
i’ve put myself on a pedestal but i’m afraid of heights
so i climb back down and try to tap back in
remembering the rules that i remembered to forget
i’ll try to free myself again
and burn away barriers of my own making

what exactly am i tapping back into?
and what was it that stopped me in the first place
willing to explore in hope that i will find
some kind of door, a passage, a prompt
an opening but really it’s myself
the door is me and my pressure has closed it
and now it’s stuffy in here while i’m trying to think
watch as i sweat out all of my minerals
dry as a bone i’m drained, dry fruit
cold and wrinkly but still slightly nutritious
i was juicy once, but can dry fruit make it all the way back?

this raisin says it can so
but this raisin needs to pace itself
remember what the games about
i enjoy myself
so the tiny raisin defies all odds
defies history, growing green
but does not stop at grape, adapting
taking from all fruit, becoming
bananaesque and avocadoish
apple-y and orangelike
melon sized with mango vibes
seasonal like clementines
like plantain shallow fry me
peel me, taste me and consume me
i’m nutritious cold and wrinkly
i am a fruit of prey
and if you don’t like it then you can go suck a lemon
because i’m dry fruit with ambition
aiming to reclaim turns of phrase
i rejoice in going pear-shaped
i’m forbidden fruit that’s good for you
and i’d rather eat the cherry
in my spacious pea pod claiming
cucumbers were never cool
but always subjective i’m flexin now
waxin now maybe i’m in bloom again