when I'm bored I kinda drift away
Sleeping Pills

Lay me down to sleep tonight;
fill the air with night and moon.
Whisper dreams to me tonight
so the stars may awe and croon;

their songs are throwing sand tonight;
the earth may fall asleep with me;
nothing can be done in spite tonight,
laying unaware of all that would be.


i’ve been [edited out]
you pressed backspace on me
and i became storage.
so easy to delete me, 
i wasn’t even an ink stain
to fade with age, just pixels
that flicker out with a mere press.

did you even save me?
a picture hidden 
amongst so many unclicked folders,
or maybe just a line i said that stuck_
i’m stubborn, oh i’ll cling to you.
luminous post it notes 
flittering with your every move,
do you remember me now?

naive; i was recycled before i ever knew.

( - bethany. h. )

This is war-time.

The wreck of this land
will be my sleeping place:
a pillow of hearts and
lost hope. I will curl up and
dream of people living
amongst the ruins. A city
rolled flat, transformed
into a busy market place,
as if I could buy
back the lives lost between
towering concrete tombstones
and the metal trill of a
money till.

The two sides of the coin

If I had never loved you
I’d never had seen the sun rise
like an orange peeling itself.

If I had never hated you
I’d never had seen the sun rise
like a fire igniting itself.

If I had never known you
I’d never had seen the sun rise
at all. 

Beautiful book. :)

Beautiful book. :)

The Natural Cycle of Us

I found you in the naked street
and the wind whistled a cat call,
and the rain fell like touches,
and I approached with the trees
shouting encouragement:
like water trickling into the drain
and a heartbeat like a dying fire
trying to start itself again.

We made us like spring makes life
and the sky looked on like a
worried parent and the birds
passed us in a flutter of
memories. The moon appeared
early on our nights and the
ground didn’t matter because we
had the clouds.

You left like the crack of
thunder and freshly laid rain,
but remained like snow
two weeks after it fell. I existed
like a thought and the leaves 
of autumn that couldn’t be held
without breaking and I guess
it’s natural to feel like this.

Letting Go

I count the waves with my toes,
a pendulum of a countless number,
and trace the sunset with a finger;
it is as vast as I remember.

I unload my worries into the wind
and it sweeps them faster than love,
and as I send your memory forward
I hear you laugh as it sinks.

I tilt my head back and hand myself over;
let the sun descend like rapture
and absorb you like a bad dream;
I let it be my big dreamcatcher. 




I don’t understand why books have shifted from having summaries on the back of the covers to having one-line reviews.

Seriously though. I want to know what the book is about. Not that someone from the Evening Standard thinks it’s a masterpiece. 

I have been waiting for this post my whole life.


(Broken) Routine

The sun has stopped shining
so deeply
now that I have started thinking
more clearly; now that I am not
merely holding myself through
space, and kneel at the tomb
of existence, in a queue that
stretches the distance of childhood
and the space between death.

The world has broken its promise
and when the moon sinks in
the morning, it’s another day
to pretend I am anyone; not
just the vicious things I think
and the viscous things I drink
when I’m trying to forget
just who gets out of bed when
the sun slinks up from the dead. 

in relation


You are smaller
More brittle
Than the rocks
And you have yet to find a way
To break the moon
To your will
You try to drag it behind you
While it hems and haws
Besotted on it’s own

© David Rutter 2014

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