a #haiku to the boy with rock pools for eyes, I hope the tide doesn't rise too fast.

relationships in five parts 1. we love like traffic jams; boundless energy and nowhere to go with it except further together. sheets twist around our bodies as water runs round rocks, interlocked like tangled headphones. we are jigsaws, one million pieces each, missing quite a number and having swapped some shapes for prettier skylines. we are catching breaths because of touching skin and smiling after forehead kisses. we are late night phone calls and energy drinks. cold hands running up ribs and nails dragging across hips. we are miles away and missing each other too hard. 2. i am winter sunrises and summer high tides. I am super glue and bandages. I am sharpie fumes and fruity hair dye. i am a whole forest of insecurities, a whole marshland of doubt. im clingy like velcro but reluctant to tell you. I'm the moonlight reflected on a frozen lake, still, tempting and most importantly dangerous. I'm swimming through fog and breathing shallow breathes because of painful memories and im writing on buses and I'm going to museums alone and im soup when you're sick and I'm long journeys you couldn't wait for and I'm, I'm okay. 3. he was a meteor fall, brilliant and insane, fast and forever all in one. he tore through the atmosphere, burning high and bright, no knowledge of the wishes from romantics below. seemingly no knowledge of me. and he burnt out. so small he seemed, with arms outstretched slowly turning. I'm not sure whether I turned before he ran or it was the other way around. but the night is fading and his trail of smoke and skins are exhaled into the wind. 4. it's daylight now. the sun has been up for a few hours but don't let that stop your sleep. you rise in the afternoon, once the sun is starting to go down. you are dandelion seeds floating softly in late summer. you are clean wrists and perfect ribs, only hurt on the inside. you are christmas morning to a six year old, constantly exciting and interesting. you are my dear englands weather, you change by the hour, you keep me on my damp-from-rain toes. you are wet grass and petrichor. you are streetlights in the rain and hiding under covers at 4am. you are lighthouses to sailors lost at sea, you are distant sirens growing close for a victim. you are not just a boy to me anymore. 5. my meaning is getting lost amongst all these letters and i apologise for making me difficult to understand. but you snuck into my heart and I'm quite happy to let you sit there if you promise not to wriggle, because, put simply, its fragile. and you are growing into my everything. and yes, i am in love. and yes, I hate admitting that. and yes, it sounds soppy. but god I don't want this to end.

recommended dosage (16+) I am trying to shower away the weekend, but the mix of sweat, rain, second hand smoke and marker pen won't run down the drain. it's like they want to cling to me, remind me i should still be in your bed. but I awoke with little memory and my own sheets tangled against my single form this morning. (maybe you're a sedative; you relax me to the point I just want to close my eyes and feel your breath on my skin.) i stumbled to the bathroom to bleed out that growing sadness I could find no reason for. like it fed off the same air as me, the longer I stayed conscious the more I wanted to go under. Sat on the bath as it dripped from my wrist, i hit my head on the sink asking out loud what the fuck I was doing again. (I think you are a painkiller; nothing hurts when I can feel you next to me.) you make me laugh by pretending to be inanimate objects. you make me smile when you call me adorable. I get that sudden piercing tightness in my chest when your name appears on my phone and it runs outwards like warm water. you make me happy just by saying you'll stay, in fact you don't even have to speak. (maybe you are an anti-d; because I feel okay around you. so much more okay than the 40 milligrams they want to make me swallow.) I think you could be my medicine, I think you could make me better but tell me, what happens when I overdose?

remember remember remember remember the fifth of november gunpowder treason and plot I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot remember remember the fifth of november lay down the plan and then hide if this all goes well the whole will go up and we won't even be inside remember remember the fifth of november guy fawkes and his crew tried their best but a rat scuttled out brought men right about and they found the treasoners nest remember remember the fifth of november when the world could have changed for good with politicians gone the world would go on just like they knew it would remember remember the fifth of november when people could have seen their power to rise up and speak our voice is not meek we can force the boss' to cower remember remember the fifth of november when gove'ment is scared of the masses the public will bow but only for now as long as their word still passes remember remember the fifth of november gunpowder treason and plot I see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot

299, 792, 458 m/s every exploding firework is turning into a silhouette of you. every ray of sunlight catches the edge of your skin like a cloud with a silver lining, except i cant see whats so bad about you. every lightbulb lit throws shadows across the peaks of your shoulders, collarbones and neck, mountain ranges my lips wish to climb. there are bonfires within my joints, they cause aches at the most inconvenient times, throwing plans into disarray with their imaginary flames. I'm trying to write about a boy who isn't just the remains of my cold tea, settled in the bottom of a mug. he isnt just early morning dust in the haze of sunshine through thin curtains. he isn't just the chill on my skin or the words caught in my throat. the far off rumble of traffic is his breathing in my ear, a clock ticking is his slow-beating heart. I'm trying to find the words without repeating myself or anyone else, and im trying to show what he means to me, but I swear every moment I spend with him he is stealing all my best lines and keeping them hidden, so when I come to him with open wounds he can show me how beautiful he thinks I am.