In the depths of loneliness,
My mind struggles to find a response,
A lifeline to lift me up instead of letting me sink into shadows,
A reality overshadowed by the delicacy of escape.
A half-formed smile, fleeting and fragile, warmth fading into the void.
A stolen kiss that once burned bright now lies extinguished,
Dreams, goals, ambitions—stripped bare,
No one will grieve the day two hearts shattered,
No one will mourn.
There was once a haven, a safe retreat,
a sanctuary wrapped in love that kept despair at bay.
There was a room, a tiny space where treasures were secured, under lock and key.
There was a house, built of brick and mortar, solid as a cliff, strong as a fortress.
There was a town, an unseen realm where no one lingered, everyone fled.
There was a time when all these flourished, each with walls of iron and stone,
Sixty feet high and an arm’s width thick, an impenetrable stronghold.
It is where I dwell, where I retreat, where I will remain,
In solitude, quiet desperation, at that crossroads of shame—
Forever at the threshold, shackled.
No one is coming to rescue me.
I am weary, diminished by cowardice, unable to escape,
Trapped and starved for love and companionship,
Downtrodden by your lingering disregard.
I shall pass without your knowing,
Pity me not, for I am beyond pitying.
Do not pity me, for this is the reality,
Not the lament of the needy.
And in my silence, I shall be free.
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 12:35 AM UTC
Words scraped off slate floors
Dazed and confused by the sweep of a stiff broom
Shunted into a corner to be half-forgotten
Then ****** into oblivion by the howling vacuum cleaner
Destined to be thrown out with all the other *******
No escape or salvation
There is no heaven for words
No afterlife either – just blank oblivion
Whether punctuated, hyphened, spoken or penned
They await their final destiny
Words of love, words of hate
Consonants, vowels, accents
All to be consumed and destroyed
They crawl out of open mouths
In jubilation or quiet desperation
To be cast adrift in the sea of unfinished sentences
Only to crumble into dust
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 10:44 PM UTC
I asked for forgiveness, but you pushed me away,
I wanted you to understand that we were both suffering,
but you left your scent on the sheets,
and I would give anything to be in your arms again.
The morning came, but it left me wondering-
How will I fill this void that you left behind?
The day stretches on, promises long
and I'm alone with no one to ease my mind.
I can't bear this loneliness, I miss you so much,
I have no one left to confide in, no tender touch.
I spend my days looking out the window,
Hoping, still hoping, to have you back by my side.
Everything is falling apart, I'm lost for words,
What will become of me? The silence hurts.
I wait for you as if you'll come home once more,
But the memories haunt me, and I'm still at war.
I wish for time to make them fade away,
But the past won't leave me, and it's here to stay.
I think about you more than words can say-
Sometimes, I hear the sound of your voice, so far away.
The years pass by, and with them I see
How lucky I was to have you next to me.
I'll wait and I'll wait for as long as it takes,
Never stopped loving you - no matter what is makes.
In the darkness of night, I begged you to stay,
And since you've been gone, I've been lost in the grey.
Under my eyelids, your image is clear,
I was meant to love you - this much I hold dear.
It hurt me to hurt you, the pain still stings,
I've never suffered so much for anything,
But I don't want freedom, I don't want to be free
I just want to stay in the business of loving you, endlessly
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 6:16 PM UTC
We talk about trees, colours, snow and flowers
Without realising the beauty of life around us
Never once releasing the inner meanings of being
Disregarding the emotions within for fear of reality
Within the multiplicity of individual leaves exists a primordial ‘leaf’
On the model of which all leaves have been woven, drawn and circumscribed
wrinkled and painted
But by a clumsy hand
In such a way that no exemplar would seem to be correct
And reliable as a faithful copy of the original shape
We walk around feelings of love and devotion, betrayal and death
Without realising the beauty of life within us
Never once releasing the deeper meanings of love
Disregarding the emotions within for fear of rejection
Within the complexity of individual souls exist a primordial ‘soul’
On the blueprint of which all souls have been composed and constrained
Furrowed and painted
But by a clumsy hand
In such a way that no paradigm would seem to be correct
And reliable as a faithful reproduction of the original shape
Nov 26, 2024
Nov 26, 2024 at 11:44 PM UTC
1.
Silence
She opens her brown eyes wide
But shuts them tight quickly
Time passes
She tries again
This time squinting
She looks at the clock
So carefully arrange on the bedside table
7.03am
2.
Silence
The world is gently stirring
Soon people would be making their way to work
Like ants filing out of their nest to forage
Five minutes more pass
"I'll get up now" she thinks
3.
Silence
Broken by sudden noise
The air around crashes violently
Heat and noise invades her sanctuary
Explosion, the whole room rocks and shakes
The silence and dust
4.
Catherine Maddis was her name
It stated that upon her door beside the bell
Which lay across the floor in the hallway
Shouts, screams and pleas pierce the haunting silence
From beyond the hallway
Footsteps echo
5.
The dust settles
Smoke seeps into the room
All is still, the pleas fade
Slight movement, a spark of life
Her arm falls, a trickle of blood trails to her wrist
She looks so peaceful
6.
So quiet
Broken by the increasing sound of footsteps
Far, far, nearing, nearing, faster, faster
Faint echoes and scrambled words
Finally a peaceful silence remains
Fade away
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 10:11 PM UTC
He wrote poetry
As one may take the bus
Patiently waiting in the eye of the storm
His storm, the storm of thought
With or without cause or fuss
Or an element of uncertainty
Whether or not the wait will deliver
Deliver us to the fate of salvation
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 9:09 PM UTC
She made a show of hesitating on the threshold,
Leaning against the doorframe.
She regarded him with a small, false, enquiring smile,
He said nothing, merely looked at her.
And still she advanced, still smiling,
The expanse of skin about her collarbone was mottled.
And there were hairline cracks in her make-up around her eyes,
Stop at the window, consider the view.
The sun shines on a glitter of green,
And summer strides up the hillside.
He watched her where she stood with her back to him and her arms folded,
As if she were holding another, slightly self clasped tightly to her.
He noticed her poor bare feet with their stringy tendrils,
Once the world had seemed to him, a rich, coloured place.
Now all he saw was the poverty of things,
And the ghost of a love past.
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 10:26 PM UTC
The vision :
(dreams torn, torn)
A picture came to me in the darkness of night,
Of myself in ten, twenty years time;
Worn out with the struggle, weak, and no longer able to fight,
Finally giving way to the forces ranged against me,
Sad and grey and defeated.
The sketch :
(in harsh charcoals)
This dream that came to me,
Was as though I had finally and sadly, late in the day,
Lost my innocence.
The Canvas :
(Life, existence)
I had been high-minded and apologetic,
Full of enthusiasms I didn’t quite mean,
And guilt’s I didn’t understand.
And now I stand looking at the man I could’ve been.
In Oils :
(violent colours)
I had spent years thrashing around in confusion
As drowning men pull each other under,
As wave after wave we are swept away;
Our cries obscured by the thunder.
My signature :
(...)
See my writing on the wall,
There’s no one to catch me when I fall;
But Death was on my side:
Suicide.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
She was simply there,
An incarnation of herself.
No longer a nexus of adjectives
But pure and present noun.
I noticed the little fine hairs on her legs,
A speck of sleep in the canthus of her eye.
No longer Our lady of the Enigmas, but a girl,
Just a girl.
And somehow by being suddenly there like this
She made the things around her be there too.
In her, and in what she spoke, the world,
The little world in which we sat.
Found it’s grounding and was realised.
It was as if she had dropped a spreading drop of colour
Into the water of the world and the colour had spread
And the outlines of things had sprung into bright relief.
As I sat with my mouth open
And listened to her, I felt everyone
And everything shiver and shift, falling into the most vivid of forms
Detaching themselves from me and my conception of them.
And changing themselves instead into what they were
No longer figment, no longer mystery,
No longer a part of my imagining.
And I, I was there amongst them, at last.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:15 PM UTC
Her hair was as black and as shocking as burning tyres;
And her pastel-hued eyes that once surveyed the dawn,
Could set the world aglow;
And her skin as white as alabaster and soft like the new found snow.
Her voice, oh, her voice was as cool and clear as ice,
Probing and touching and reaching like wanting fingers.
But she left...
She had left him with a life like a ruined photograph print,
One half burned to ashes and the other half torn,
And containing only the single, voiceless image,
Of a pair of red shoes moving in the winters breeze.
Outside,
The moths spin crazily across the slate-dark road;
In the midnight a puddle was ***** by the wind.
He plunges into the obscene night, taking the backroads,
His hands naked against the starry cold.
The leafless trees accosts his soul,
And the icy wind shears the skin from his body,
And all the while;
She looks down at him, there all alone;
Her body limp and swaying from her hanging tree.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:14 PM UTC