Darling
you may dwell in your castle
your big, empty chamber
you may fill it with diamonds and pearls
you may bathe yourself in the milk of the Gods
and you may rest in the eye of the moon
You may spew riches
and dispose of that opulent and rancid mess
feed it to the peasants
You may greet your subjects in Gold
and kiss your lover in Silver
you may spear down lions for their jaws
and only dance with those in purple
and only sleep with those with silk sheets

Darling
there are no silk sheets in graves
you may lie
and rot
next to the peasant
who ate your week-old
bronze tat
and loved the lion
in the wild
not the jaw on the mantelpiece
and the same green grass will grow above you both
the same roses will spurt from your marble
and their stone
and your bones will both be white and withering
more so than the lion's jaw

Why do you fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known?
And why do you sing Hallelujah
if it means nothing to you?

Why do you sing with me at all?

I will simply
fade
out of your arms
float
out of your eyes
seep
out of your blood
drift
out of your mouth
leak
out of your mind
drip
out of your memory

*forever the drizzle, never the hurricane

So many times I have heard
''It's not a crime to love''
''I love
I love
and there's no law against it''
so then why is it treated that way?
I want him to hold his boyfriend's hand and not
be scared of their words
like handcuffs
I want her to kiss her girlfriend's lips
with her eyes closed
for once not looking around the busy Sunday streets
at who is staring
I want their bodies to blend
just like everyone else's
free from laws
free from prohibition
and hatred, disgust
simply for gender
because hey
look
they both wear makeup
or they're both in dresses
they met whilst playing on the all-male football team
when they were born
their baby showers were themed blue
when really, gender is not a colour
just like love is not a gender
and no love-banning law
will make love a criminal act

It's not a crime
to think their skin is made of constellations
it's not a crime
to feel warmth in your bones when they're lying beside you
it's not a crime
to kiss them with passion so intense
it makes your own heart fleet to your stomach
And I don't want to live in a world
where the crime is not in the bloodied fist of the attacker
or the cruel words spat from their mouth
but in the man with the red river gushing from his nose
simply because he gave his heart to another man

My veins have cracked like fine china
on a cold stone floor
now, I write this, to whom I adore

I swim in a cesspool of love, alone
and these lovely, lovely waters do chill my milky bones
my bones all ripped are gently sewn
by the one I adore

There is a resting place, in the forest of dreams
whereby dreams are only choked by the rivers reeds
and after sewing bones, he is sewing seeds
the hands of he whom I adore

There is a pearlescent white sky, yet I lay on the floor
stabbed by the pins of the one I adore
my body will rot into the flowers that once grew
and they will bloom, and say
''I love no one
no one like you.''