Tribal 
dances in stone buildings 
we collided like two armies of sweat.
                                                                             *
The bitterness in my mouth was running down my nose 
lead poisoning in the name of a child-eater.
We never wanted life extensions.
Trapped we were eager for a future
where we are ready to face the past 
for the present it was
an abuser who was abused just as much.
Bloody fingers on Seaton Drive –
curing depression with twisted wrists
topless, damned and condemned
being dragged down the stairs of a sparkling gaff
in a night of endless beggary for acceptance
echoing along the length of King Street
                                                                                                                          Iwanttofuckrafael
because I felt like that’s all I could do
wasted on his love boat to planet lost.

The triple I of disaster:
I fucked so much to be loved 
I saw no line between caring and obsessed 
I misused every inch of my existence. 

A house on University of Road –
staring at a block of speed
                                                                                                               A toy in my own hands. 

inches away from my reflection
on the glass window of a charity shop.
Between my fingers I always kept a paper –

                                                                                                                         4 hours of studies
                                                                                                                          6 hours of MDMA
                                                                                                                                        1 of sleep
                                                                                                                                         7 of work
                                                                                      Mary Berry’s recipe for independence.
In silence I kept on repeating my mantra
as if we were pagans on the beach,
deliberately falling in subversive cycles
always ending on Belmont street –
where I’d do my last fix of the night
illuminated by hollow stares.
                                                                               *
Aberdeen took care of me like no other. 
He taught me how to suffer, holding my hand under candlelight
while pouring wax down my spine

universal
e x x x p e r i e n c e
                                                                                                          of the most ancient kinds.