Killing Isla Nicholson
You sink your foot into the water
And fold your body up.
Joints jut out like a shipyard in low tide.
You look down, survey the jagged shoreline.
How you always wished that you were shorter.
The hand of time upon your shoulder.
The grasp of guilt it pulls you under.
Water competes to fill up your nose,
Tightens it's grip around your throat.
You wont grow a single day older.
Every little thing you do will end up coming back to you.
Every little thing you do will end up coming back to you.
The street
lights flicker on and off and on.
Your eye lids
flutter, you remember
The soft touch
of your grandmothers skin.
How it
crinkled like your finger tips have wrinkled.
In those days
lemonade was a drink not a mixer.
Every little thing you do will end up coming back to you.
Every little thing you do will end up coming back to you.
Every little thing you do will end up coming back to y.o.u.
The dog follows you.
No more regrets.
No more lies.
No need to
memorise the plot and the lines.
No more bridges
for you to burn,
So peel your
skin.
And if you had a
lover you know what he'd say.
"You have her
face but you are not her."
And when he
passes his hands over skin brand new
Sparks will jump
off and dance on top of you.
