He who dares Rodney, he who dares

when i say bad things
i didn't mean it.
when i say good things
i didn't mean it.

the only time i say
the right thing
is when
i didn't mean it.

The Box

After stopping
I was sealed
in a box.
Wearing slippers
out the back door
you left to the

abyss.
In pitch black,
skirting alleyways,
past the cornershop
and down the lane.
A silhouette of

loss.
Fox cries, stop
dead.
Pausing,
steam rises with
collecting midnight

mist.
Main road, barren
of cars,
over the style,
into the fields.
The orange beams

behind.
Owl scream at
your mad
jaunt.
The beaten track,
the long, thick

grass.
Your feet,
the overgrowth,
sodden with
sadness.
The moon appearing,

dim.
On your knees
scratching away.
Fragile fingernails.
An intrusion, a hole,
my shallow

grave.
One last look,
spit with rage,
cast me in -
kisses of mud,
clumps of heartfelt

dirt.
A vow to despise,
you traipse away,
wearing slippers,
without the box,
without me.

bugger.