More Than This

*Even The Most Carefully Chosen Words*

Just the remains
Even a name seems
Too far off
Or just plain useless
Now
Given the circumstances

Even the most
Carefully chosen words
Can’t sum this up or do justice
To the scene

It’s either beautiful
Or wrong
No room for grey areas
So why bother

With the wrong eyes
In the wrong place
All of this could be
Fearful and violent

From a different side
Of the room all I can
See is an angel

I think about you
sleeping and fucking
with other people
Because the thought
of that turns me on

But try and change
The subject because
It just seems too much
To think about right
Now






*The Good People*


The good people
are making sure
that no one sleeps alone.

Even those
shuddering
their last breaths
hidden beneath
business suits,
and hanging from
makeshift nooses
made from
power-dressing
style neck ties
deserve someone
to watch them off.

If you find them,
they’re yours

for the night.










*Where Did You Go?*


"so where did you go?"

"nowhere"

"are you sure?"

"I promise"









*Extract Eighteen*


Daniel just left. I watched him from the window until he was out of view. I offered to go with him, although I didn’t know where he was going and he said no. I’ll call him later, see what he’s doing. I don’t want him to see other people. I don’t want him to know how special he is.

I like that fact that nobody knows he fucks men, because it means he can be my secret. He’s much better looking than me; younger, alive. He could have anyone he wanted. I’ve seen girls stare at him too.

Young men have such incredible power and they usually have no idea. Most teenage boys could get a lot more sex than they would think. The sex that they’re going crazy to get. The sex that’s killing them because it isn’t there.

If ever Daniel realised what he had then I’d be lost. Maybe I’d kill myself. Shit – listen to me. Maybe I’m overreacting; but it would feel like a massive blow.

I just fucked the sort of person that I have always fantasized about fucking. It’ hard to get my head around that. The sort of boy that I walk by in the street and makes me want to throw myself under a fucking bus because he looks so fucking godly. The sort of kid who’d send me into a self conscious ball of shit when he’s ask me if I could give him a cigarette or buy him alcohol because the guy in the shop has already told him to fuck off.








*Morning*

She looked at herself
in the long mirror
that leant against the wall in her bedroom.

Her reflection seemed lot different
to how it had felt the night before.

Then, when she was so high
that she couldn’t tell
which substance
was having which effect anymore,

she had felt almost completely in love with herself.

Her infatuation
wasn’t connected
to anything
negative
like arrogance or selfishness.

The warm feelings
she had felt
when she stared
at her own
blue
eyes
intensely,

and watched her hand run
over her mirror double’s stomach
until it felt like heaven
were good natured,
and in fact close
to the sort of feelings
that the majority of people would wish for,
were they attainable.

The only thing that stopped
her adoration
from consuming
her one hundred percent
was the love that she felt for all of those around her.

Now they’d gone.
She looked pale,
flushed.
Cigarette ash trodden into the carpet.











Writing by Thomas Moore http://thomasmoronic.blogspot.com
Photos: http://dmonick.blogspot.com/ www.flickr.com/photos/pbo31/ www.flickr.com/photos/bats1234/ www.flickr.com/photos/oscarhagbard/
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