fragility, and
pain, peace, borne in unison
how it breaks me so

but what good is a
fallen flower
except to be stepped upon
crushed under your
unwavering soles
of courage, bravery and
anger

i gift you this corsage of
lycoris radiata and
poison ivy,
and may you wear it till
the flowers fall

and crush you.

you ask me why I’m leaving
but I have no sob story
no apologies
none at all

i carry with me only
the scars you left
when sensitive you
said insensitive things

“I got your back,” you said.
but you held me back
you turned on all the lights
but you blinded me

you opened all the windows
asked me to stare
but I am suffocated
by your glare

tear-stained mascara days
dot my calendar like
the painting you gave me
spattered with the scratch marks
and paint under nails

i have nothing to say.

no, it isn’t a mental block.

it is emptiness that fills me up
right to the brim.

the silence that rings in my ears,
the cold within the casket

the tips of my heart
iced over by time
and frosted by voices
in my head

an unheard echo in the void

the winds blowing in gusts
into eye sockets
of glass eyes and glassy eyes

this desolation
of isolation
and devastation
is the spark
burning out in the snow

a snowflake into insignificance

i have nothing left to say.

there’s no one to hear me anyway.

you wipe your tears
and tell me you're sorry
and that you're the one at fault,
that they were your mistakes,
and that you're sorry again and again
and you should've known better.

you don't see that your mistake is "you".

So much you, it's sickening.

I'm leaving before I become
your mistake.

when you're up there
standing, proud
they'll be there too

oh, they'll hear you alright
they'll see you
they'll know you

but in the glare of the spotlight,
remember this:

Make sure they listen.
Make sure they look.
Make them understand.

and like death,
sweep upon your victims
like a cold wind on
a frozen night

bring sweat to palms
on rocky mountains,
bring fire to dying forests,
pluck your flowers,
graceful as you go,
and decorate your gardens

oh, sweet sadness,
how beautiful, how deadly.

wake someone up,
and bring someone down
day and day again,
you never fail to bring the night.

the flowers fall,
every year.
lilac raindrops
on sodden ground
turned to dust and
roadkill

the flowers fall,
every year.
beautiful death,
they called it,
as they trampled
on the outstretched fingers,
blue and purple

the flowers fall,
every year.
paint the outside
lavender and violet
crinkle to nothing.

the flowers fall.
see them, and catch them.
remember them.

anticipation shakes me
as my fingers tremble
in the looming darkness
of tomorrow

the shadows grow longer,
and i grow tired. the day
stretches on, and doesn't end
but then it does.

and as night falls, so does
silence, and so does the moonlight
over the shadows, over the
mountains that are ever so tall

my dreams are dark,
near nightmares, no where near
reality, where all the shadows fall
and all the moonlight glimmers

bring to light this fear
make this all now clear

in those fiery eyes,
lies a spark of calm beauty,
like colourful death

like the scar after a rose

has taken you into its arms

like the glimmer after a star

has shone for you as it dives from the skies

like the echoes after a melody

has wrapped its slender fingers around your mind

like the breeze after a butterfly

dances for you, lives for you


the stains of beauty are but

strokes of the brush on long finished

canvases that breathe and sing,

not along hallways,

but immortalised in the scars

after a rose has taken you into its arms

like verbal diarrhea,
a poem is belched out from
deep within my inner workings
of the factory, ink-stained and
torn

sometimes i wonder if the title
is just a bright pink bow,
resting atop a pile of
trash.

hollow and thawing
your embrace leaves shadows
in the snow of my heart
melted days and melting nights
a snuffed out flame, shallow
breath, through cracks of
lifeless vein and pointed,
deathly, killer
stalagmites

life is a terminal illness.

but will you choose to stay bedridden?

as we hide behind locked doors
we are locked within hidden doors
trapped within the dangers of
our own mind

no one can save you from yourself
except you.

make your own keys.

open all those locks.

set free the captive mind

and set free the beautiful souls.

finger on your lip
tells me there's more than just one
ring on your fingers

it was called
the Showstopper
and we went and it came
and we left and it went
every year

fairy lights like
fireflies frozen in cages
with your roar you stole
the souls of the young
your unspoken words
and (un)spilled blood

the rings of fire(flies)
bright in our eyes
blinding in yours
applause raining pitter patter
wind screaming quicker faster

and the smell of fire(flies)
and burning gold
is not new, not unfamiliar
not unfamiliar to the tattoos
you're so proud of

fairy lights like
you frozen in cages
and it came and went
and went and came
every
year

and you were the Stopper of the Shows.

a reverb in the
back of my mind

rhythmic breathing,
beating hearts till they break

echoes haunt me,
ricochet in the night lights

dissonance like rain on sunny mornings,
glassy eyes till night, till broken dusk

the chorus, the ******
has arrived and I will ride until
the day ends.

i imagine all of us
like little fairy lights
strung up inside our own
shells

when the night is nigh
we shine the brightest,
but sometimes other shine
brighter, and we are blown out
short circuited

we all race for the top,
a winding christmas tree,
breaking your bulbs across
walls and beyond corners,
and the twinkle pop and shatter
becomes louder and louder,
until we rest our heads atop
the shooting star of fame (shame)

stopped my heart
but you didn't stop walking

stopped your heart
then you stopped talking

and like chipped teacups;
bedazzling in the own right,
my butterfly garden sparkles
in reflections and broken glass

gemstones impressed
upon their heads, forceful
light bled into reality
diamond studded wings
carrying the weight of themselves

a silent beating, whirring;
mechanical clicks signal life
in metal cages

and then; nothing

but the creeping warmth
of dead butterflies in my stomach

just like the sun mourns
its dying child,
caressing its dry lakes and flaming forests,
unknowingly only starting a larger spark
of death

so I mourn myself,
my youth,
burning off whatever ashes
of memories are left in the rubble
of tears and pain.

i wake up with Stagnancy in my bed
another morning, yet the same day
the rays of sun tear into the room,
ripping open pools of white on his face

he pays it no mind, his hands
clutch my Adam's apple like plucking
fruit in an evergreen garden,
where nothing grows so nothing dies

Constancy begs me to stay, pleads me
to never leave, shuts the blinds
so the hordes of bright people and
brighter voices stay outside our
unchanging paradise

they call him bullish names, they
say he's complacency, laziness
say he's "wasting my potential"

but I've found greater peace in him
than I ever have in the multitudes
of mornings and infinite days
that I never want to experience

so I'll wake up with Immutability
and go to bed with Invariableness
I'll give myself to him, let him take
everything, let him be everything

another morning, yet the same day.
I wake up alone again.

it's the quiet of dawn
and the silence of dusk
that makes the day.

it's the unheard whispers
of the moon to the sun
that makes the night.

it's the unsung valor
of the invisible heroes,
the flicker of fire in
cold eyes and colder rooms.

and it's the unspoken words,
like whispers from the moon to the sun,
like the muted winds in the morning skies,
like tiny sparks, so alive, so bright,

that give life.

it's the shiver down your back.
the background screaming, muted,
but shrill in your shivering heart.

the shouting across corridors,
echoes along corridors,
silence aside corridors.

not creaking doors, no
but ones that shut and never open again,
and the others that stay open forever.

not vengeful spirits,
but broken ones, beyond the point
of saving, broken ones that can't save themselves

broken glass may line the red carpet,
fire may eat at the walls,
frost may gnaw at your digits

but never waver.

Don't be scared of being scared.

crying is weakness
so they say

so now they stain my pillows
instead
sink into paper so fragile
so thin

but I’ve realised something.

tears are pearls
of our very own making
from box hearts boxed up
from the friction of existence
a beauty no poem can ever convey

tears are the answers
we’ve been searching for
the light in the darkness
the hope in the fear
the hope by fear

tears are the essence
of your very soul
whispering, always
the proof of your humanity
the true incarnation of an emotion

remember this.

apathy is true weakness.

the drop rolling down your cheek
holds more strength
than that smile plastered onto your face

how can a minute feel
so, so long?

and how do lifetimes
disappear in front,
right
in
front

of my eyes?

the ravings of a madman
forced into words in strict
freedom

is it worthy of poetry?

a hellhole of emotion
forced into a body in free
restriction

am i worthy of existence?

how vast the ocean
how miniscule a drop
in the endless, rocking
throes of dawns and dusks

how wide the skies
how tiny a bird
wings grabbing nothing
going nowhere

how immense the earth
how silent a tree
swaying, yet rooted
cry their teardrop leaves

how tiny we are,
in the infinite universe

yet how unfathomable
how unending
how beautiful
the depths of our hearts,
limitless as the skies, seas and earth.

when you throw your spears
they lodge themselves in the steel poles
and cry and shout and cry

but now you've shed your tears
there's no doors for you to close
don't shout don't knock don't die

and yet again,
they've added too much sugar

it boils over, pink
and bubblegum,
artificial reality,
plastic face

but behind the masks
of dazzling white teeth
and teacups

lie the lies,
and the yellow black
shadows of teeth
and bitter, bitter coffee

and I thought you were
my shooting star,
bathed in light as your
hands reached for the door
to my heart

and I didn't see how you
would come to set my heart on fire,
with you burning wings of starlight
and hellfire,

and I didn't see how you
would come to set me on fire.

a
mutter
in the empty
corridor echoing
to and fro all the way
louder, faster, stronger
a cry now, a scream a SHRIEK

silence.
and a mouth sewn shut.

yet
again a
shiver, quiver
a rumble deep down
aching river flooding over
quiet streams burst into tremors
a broken voice now NO MORE GLAMOURS

silence.
and a voice long gone.

but
just but
just once more
the shift of air into
the hollow larynx the
beating heart slamming
against the unyielding ribs
the haunting melody fragile
but unbroken ringing like bells
the tearful shudder itching to break
free once free again as it rips out and
away an echo no more a song I will sing
into the skies a chorus of UNENDING HOPE

the waves roll and crash
and my sandcastle
is gone.

pick up the
shells, sticks
seafoam sickeningly
salty

grain by grain
a new reign sets itself
into the ever-shifting shore

and yet again,
the waves roll and crash
and my sandcastle is gone.

pick up the
shovel, stones
silence so, so
scary

pain by pain
a new dawn, a new day
sets itself into a city of night

and yet again,
the waves roll and crash
and roll,
and crash.

but the day has set,
and the night is still very, so young

espy the boundless skies
through shards of glass and windows,
and pupil lenses, tinted red green blue,
chromatic panic, a manic display of light

beauty incarnate, as you spectate
through your spectacles the spectacle of
man and fake suns, stars of your own making,
see-through masks and one-way rainbows

as you press closer, sparks turn to flames
and flames turn to fires, burn your skin
with tattoos of smoke and pain,
but your grin only grows wider in the open air

and with a crash, it was a mirror all along,
you realise, laughing on your way down

it is free within the confines of my mind
i have long forgotten its song, yet somehow
I can still drum the rhythm as it
echoes against the cell bars of my skull

its throat groans - yet still no sound escapes
neither joy nor pain is exempted from
the blockage of stale unmoving air
and lukewarm blood

songs rot in its belly, dead music adorned
rot bellows its song, rough and uncouth
and most of all,

it climbs up the nightingale's mouth,
an air of forced silence
the death of inspiration

sometimes, all you can
really do is
give them a big smile
and wave them off,
hopefully from your life.

like melted wax
in the tub

1. Marinate thoroughly
i soak my fingers
dip them in blood poppies
till they're wrinkled
powdery white

2. Add water
take a deep breath
underwater, take a big
gulp of dead grapes and
melted wax

3. Boil on high heat
swallow bubbles whole
as you bathe in debt

4. Bring to a simmer
i am everywhere but here,
nowhere but there
and the blood poppies
and dead grapes
and melted wax

5. Plate.
head on a silver platter,
i hand myself over and away

it's almost as if I'm underwater
glassy eyes, haunted stare
I can't breathe, but I haven't ever
if I could, I wouldn't care

tension and suspension
fear, silence in contention
like atmospheric death
not a single breath

spoken thoughts are now
unspoken words, a bow

what I once felt is gone
that's it. this time you've won.