Just to feel you, it kills me.

This blog is the culmination of years of procrastination and constant nagging by many people to post my work online. This particular title is a lyric from a song that I feel represents what I try and portray in my own writing and how it makes me feel. So thank you to all who have supported me over the years, this is for you! – Mikey.

Miss Trial


I set the criminals free. It was me.
I made some miscalculations on account of misappropriations of liquor.
Miss, I confess to this mess but at your behest, might I be forgiven?
Send me your best dressed, fine pressed uniform to catch me
I’ll hatch me an escape plan quicker than a lucky eight can predict my fate
I’ll stand on all four corners waiting
Eliminating the odds that grow shorter with no quarter given.
Give me the best detective, the super spy
The only dry eye remaining in the most moving drama
Penned by the pinnacle of poets.
You know it’s going to end in tears, but this could make our careers.
I’m bribing the Judge already
We’re still in arrears from the previous years debauchery.
I’ve picked every lock left in this block but no doors have opened
So don’t play dumb with me, officer.
I was law abiding while you were biding your time deciding
You’ve caught me red handed
Dressed to the nines with a nine millimeter
Defeat in her wake, I’ll break my silence before more violence is appropriate.
But Darling, please, there’s no need to rush
I’m packing less punch than a prisoners toothbrush.
A shiv between my ribs would be preferable right now
Is this helicopter my private charter or an after thought?
I’ve thought of every conceivable scenario
So all second guesses are at best a misunderstanding of fatalism
An army of lawyers is my self defence mechanism.
They’re rioting in the streets, but I’m innocent I tell you.
I’ll confess to my crimes, arrest me right now
I’ll come quietly, I’ll stand trial
I’ll go down on my own terms in the shadow of your smile.




The air feels thin and released from its resistance
A languid covering of lucidity is borne from this freshness
I left the gate open for you, let yourself in and tend to the flowers
Fighting for their powers to attract you with new colours
You couldn’t comprehend this before, but your eyes absorb vibrancy
Entice me through this leaf laden pathway to be a witness
The chill creeps up my fingers and into my hands
But I don’t know where to put them
A more appropriate attire would bring the fire back into my limbs
The whims of time caught within a wind chime
But I’m not ready to hear them yet
You’re happy unseen, you’re a never-green
The great hedge maze never phased
Just stays as it was from conception
You’re Autumn in summer
A welcome and familiar face
Yet so out of place here
“Tell me what it was that turned your head?”
Whenever I walked to where the grass was greener
The blades beneath my feet were already dead.



Sakura siren song


‘Can you smell the spring on the air?’ said the eternally hopeful
The Sakura sings silently into the wind
And lands gently onto her hair
The softest pinks melt into creams
And never in my wildest dreams could I be more aware
Of the contrasts in colours
combined with the decorations of circumstance
We arrived at this dance by chance
But spare the ideals of romance for a moment
Could you?
The window to this room is a stones throw away
And if you never bloom would your branches still sway?
The scent from the fresh dew on a rose
Creeps inside of your nose and throws off your floral compass
The birds flying south curl the corners of your mouth
The web tightens and destroys all your focus
Their siren song sounds so sinister When it’s heard by the late risers
But a beginner swimmer toils by the river bank
Their ambiguous stroke style resembles the smoke on the wood pile
Of the slowly burning oak laden pyres.
The eternally hopeful raises her hands
As if to make me understand such great plans
But it lands at my feet like a letter:
‘What would hurt me more? If I stopped breathing…
Or if I stopped believing things would get better?’




Hyper sensations enter through the bottoms of my feet
Like the universal sensations of the Universe’s vibrations
In hot, dry sand, arid and shifting across the land
The individual grains are the stars
This map of ours is a mirage
A mere forecast of foregone conclusions
Contained within the possibilities presented
Lamented in the dunes
These hidden catacombs provide a shelter
A complex of caves beneath the waves
I’ve saved what I can from the plan
But it’s fallen into the wrong hands
Or into these rock pools
What a collection of fools who would call this home!
I’ve always known I can leave when I want
The Bats claws cling desperately in the dark
While I pause to light this match
And to hatch my escape
In the shadow of the shape of a hundred open wings
I can remember all the things I’d sworn to bring back
But when the shadows start to attack
I begin losing hope
The way out is a rope tied around my waist
‘Do you remember how things used to taste for the first time?’
I found those words in a chest at the bottom of this mine
And I do climb
Above the ground is the sound of the hourglass turning
I wipe the dust from the rusted trusts of earning.

Scent in a message


Your scent clings to my every senses
A Senseless send off to a fleeting sanity
Cruel jokes played by memory
Filling up my head, the water level rises
and rises
Until I’m drowning underneath my disguises
An overlapping, unforgiving cocktail
I Mailed to you my thoughts in a bottle
but I forgot your address
Cancel all my appointments
I’ve scheduled you in for every available slot
Sit with me below and I’ll read your fortune
Fixating on the lines of your palms
Like the best book in braille ever written
Up to your arms is the Epilogue
But I’m not finishing it
Until I’ve fought through this nausea
A crows nest knows best when steady feet
Meet to climb and complete the rescue
Of the sheet
such sails fail and this entails
Manning of the life boats for the first women and children
Lucky enough to know that this undertow
Is a stow away’s anchor, dragging the ocean floor
If we capsize then I can only adore
how you go down with your ship.
Yet this what I came on board for:
Breathless defiance over a deathly silence.



The sound of rain outside
Warms you as it bounds from the window
Onto the cold concrete below
Expanding circles patter gently
Representing every footstep you ever took
But you don’t look, just feel
Like a driver at the wheel
For the first time since that last time
When you screamed until you were blue in the eyes
A part of you dies
And you keep it hidden in a binder
Where your forbidden binary
Finds a highest bidder
As you bid her farewell
Using the broken clocks to tell you
The difference between the distance between..
But it’s not what you think it means
A soft cotton sheet clings to cold skin
And it is paper thin
But it is there.



If the whole world is a stage then I’m a stooge

Failing to engage with my given role,

But it was you whole stole my limelight under the stage lights

I lost count of the stage frights, the false starts, the poison chalice of performance arts.

I’m not considering this audience, they are mere ornaments

Grounding me to each shifting reality I take on

Here in this undeserving platform

Where we worship the wish to escape, the innate desire to further rekindle the fire

Without thinking, I’m sinking my teeth into the lead:

The previous player had been drinking heavily while your heavenly, hypnotic blinking

Displays the pinnacle of professionalism, it’s almost poetic:

This schism.

So count the beats and practice your lines to an auditorium of empty seats

But nothing can compete with the real thing

In your hand holds a sword and I feel so judged and exposed

For the fraud that I am.

Toward the prop I am facing while my heart is racing and you thrust forward

Flesh encasing the steel. If what I feel isn’t real then how can I be certain

That we’ll cease the acting after every final curtain.




Don’t leave home
Don’t leave any footprints or a trace in the space
Most traveled by her Grace
Imagine being landlocked in a landscape so grand:
I tried my hardest to get lost out there
A plague on all your houses! May they be made out of sand.
I climbed the gate to survey your Kingdom:
The richest garden was laid out for miles
With aisles of regimented, regal perfectionism
A Rorschach test of renaissance era precision
There’s chemistry in such a symmetrical schism
You found the perfect formula in horticultural heroism.
No camera can ever capture this vision,
A Polaroid never dries, the ink runs down my hand
And dyes the ever decreasing lifelines
Like an open palmed tattoo memory of you.
Take me to the ocean
I wanted to taste the salt on my lips
Where Mermaids board the boats every summer
A solstice tradition for a solar eclipse.
How can the Sirens dance without fear,
When their feet meet the decks for just one night a year?
Something on the horizon lies heavy to the eyes
On all crew members weather weary foresight.
The sailors put their raincoats on
And felt the chill set in their bones
The rocks sneer through a thin veneer
Like cruel Kings married to their thrones.
Take me to the old lighthouse
Where We can sit and watch the shipwrecks
I would guide them back to shore
But there’s nothing more that I adore
Than your illuminated, ill fated
Artificial Belle De Jour.


Crystal currents

I feel the rains cascading from our skins
falling down the drains
the filter for all sins that flow into our oceans
completing the motions of the cycle
that the cyclone brings back
this holiness is wholly your burden to bear
but I bore witness to the washed out coastlines
and lost love ghost mines
the world is swept with the coldest blue
a murky paleness tinted hue replaces staleness
Damning you
the dams crumble
without the courage they were created with
“Forgive me.”
I surrender to the tides
I intended to survive
“You’ll never take me alive”
I scream into all encompassing currents of crystal
A fistful of sea foam thrown forever at a wall
Send for the helicopters while I fend for myself
A major scale disaster relief beneath the floods
Of minor key kissing
A melancholic moment alone in tranquility
Destroyed in seconds by its Majesty.



Crash your thoughts into mine
Collapse into my conscience
Become my aches, the thing that wakes me
The thing that takes my sleep
The overture playing to my dreams
Four hands on one piano
Eighty eighty keys in a summer breeze
Be the varnish, be the chipped paint
Be the Saint with the perfect pitch
Become the itch in my fingers
Become the scent that lingers in memory
Complicate the simplest of melody
Play me your music
Combine minor keys that freeze the blood
Please be the ship washed ashore in the flood
Be the hairs standing still
Be the spine in my chill
Be that quivering quaver as it spills from the quill.