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.

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.

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

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

when you hit
that note
my heart shattered

autumn leaves like
windchimes in the
biting winds

dark skies like
mornings held high
to high noon
to full moon

and those eyes
of dark skies and autumn leaves
of windchimes and mornings

i gasp for air
as the wind stops
and the trees fade

when you held that note
to high noon
to full moon

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.

stopped my heart
but you didn't stop walking

stopped your heart
then you stopped talking

don´t
splash the walls red
tell me to clean them
then blame me for the stained floors

i am already in your grasp
already suffocating within the metallic throes
the walls are red with my blood and yours
spill more, and drown

don´t
ask me why i am bleeding out
tell me to clean it

the cut on your face
was from your glass face
so fragile a word can break
so sharp a heart can break

don´t cry your diamond tears
sell them away
then blame them for buying themselves out

i am dead within your hands
don´t ask me to clean it up

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

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

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?

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

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.

life is a terminal illness.

but will you choose to stay bedridden?

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

it’s the dawn
finally broken
into half

the sun sett(l)ing
down forever

the moonshine fading
in the dimming glares
of the stars

i can see everything
in the imminent darkness
that is now

my tears
are black like
the sky against the world

my smile is tired
of the frowns and
the laughter

as the clock strikes 12
and i fall asleep (forever)

i am rudely awakened by
the sun screaming
into my half closed eyes

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.

a pedestal for all to see
engraved on its bronze
bio: “reader writer - carpe diem”

as i let the liquid slip
out of my chest into
the pillows of my hands
resting on the pedestal of my face

minimum bid starts at
“has dog and is nice”
but the empty hall
gives no comfort
except for stray flyers
begging for
the thing in my hands
to fill their negative
bank accounts

as time starts running out
so does the liquid
out of my hands
and i can only put it
on sale

my hands are at my knees
without the warmth of my heart
and i am left with no choice
as it leaks into the open mouths
of hungry, filthy holes

and i crumble to the floor

“cadaver - free real estate”

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

it is tiring.

watching their faces smashed
against the windows smiling
almost aggressively laughing

having to not hurt everyone
as i trip about corners and words
and deadly sentences
and yet still get there
get to “friendship”

standing in an
unending burst
of my own energy
just to calm theirs

pulling up my
****** muscles to
create a paper thin emotion
a semblance of contentment
just a semblance

cascading upon me
a pool of thoughts and opinions
i never asked for

i am tired.

of them.

mirrors
questing to see
only our face
in their cracked mirages
and shattered dreams

windows
struggling to see through
one another
as we attempt to open
ourselves out to the
frosty winds of the world

doors
locking everyone else out
locking ourselves in
slamming shut
getting slammed shut

drawers
infinitely tall
full of unopened
chests and unsolved puzzles
rusty keys broken
in rustier locks

lights
trying to
glow and glimmer
in the pressing darkness
refusing
to be snuffed out

walls
some graffiti
some paintings
others ***** stains and *****

we are but furniture
used users using

we are but a home
with cracked walls windows mirrors
but we are a home

we are but humans
with broken minds souls hearts

but we are human.

i thought you were my star in the sky

but apparently

you were just an amber traffic light

and you’ve turned red

and I can’t even jaywalk.

your eyes are like the sun

if I gaze too long
I get hurt eventually

your eyes are like the moon

they reflect my fire
the lustre isn’t yours

once you gave me flowers
radiant like your eyes
stark against the soil
of what I thought was
a scarred face

i watered it day and night
scared to drown you
scared to dry you out

i gave it the sunshine
of my life
so that it would turn towards me

then your back turned
and all of a sudden

the petals became fabric
and stalk turned to plastic
and the flowers turned
away

“their bright colours still
remain on my sill
next to my bills
a bloom of ill will

they never seem to die
no matter how I cry
a plastic smile for life
but it’s dead as your lie”

what will you do
when the water runs out
and your mouth is drier
than the dirt

drier than the words that slithered
and spat themselves out of your mouth

what will you do
when the food runs out
and your stomach begins to
digest itself

but i can't digest your words
and they stick to the dry walls
of my insides
but if i *****
i will have no food left

what will you do
when the air runs out
and your lungs are squeezing
the oxygen out of your
own cells

your words have squeezed
the life out of mine
even though
there was plenty of air
to share

what will i do?
i hope they run out,
and **** your words,
and-

unfortunately you can't
**** something that was dead to me
the night you said those words.

different isn’t special.

in fact it’s quite very normal.

ironically it’s the same for everyone.

walking down cold streets
with colder faces

i am unnerved
as my own cold face begins
to crack and fall apart

i am not surprised
when i shatter and collapse
their cold faces turn colder

i am pleasantly shocked
as their frost freezes me to the ground
and i become the soles of their feet

you look at me
like I look at my hand stained red
like the hilt of the dagger

your blood is pooling on the floor
like my love for you bleeding out
like the tears from your eyes shining
like my red fingernails

you were blind to my love
like me to yours, hidden
like the blade in your flesh piercing
like the words you just uttered

so I opened our eyes to the rawness
like your wound to my lips trembling
like your arms (hands) hung around my neck tight
like your lips against mine

you didn’t seem to understand, mind confused
like me as i fail to understand why you shouted
like when you screamed “i love(d) you”
like you love me

i
like
like
like
you.

that’s what I was trying to say.

maybe that’s what you screamed.

you look out the glass pane
as your own face is reflected back and forth
as your voice echoes back and forth
in the fragile wind

you can see the world
but you can only see
as you fingers press hard against the transparent block
and they can only press

you can only hear
as your ears are flush against the colourless wall
sounds of your breathing echoing
in the fragile world

you can only hear yourself
so you scream

and the world shatters around you like the fragile wind and your voice is out to the world raging like storms and blazing like fire and the glass shatters and finally finally

you fall out the window

It was the flash of white in the distance, the warning sign of the skies, that alarmed me. The glaring rays of sunlight dimmed in the blinding strike of lightning. The clear blue sky was marred by a scar.

I stop my car and get out as the second wave hits. The burning sand on either side of the road seems to shiver in the presence of the silent bursts. I can only see sand dunes until the horizon. I won’t reach my destination until a few hours later. Surrounded by desert, I have nowhere to go.

Then, the clouds come. But there is no rain. There is no thunder. There is only lightning. Close by, a withered tree is struck. The stench of burning wood courses through my respiratory system.

Even after multiple bolts have fallen, there is no ear-piercing crash of air expanding violently. It’s the seeming calmness of everything that is gnawing me from the inside. Death strikes the ground in complete silence.

I can feel my hair stand as the clouds turn darker. It’s coming for me. I jump into my car and step on it.

But I know I can never escape. The rumble of sand bursting and exploding is less unnerving than the silent killers from above. It assures me that I am not deaf.

We run. But we can only run. We only have so much time to reach our destination. Go for it. Don’t let the lightning storm reach you. Death comes quick and quiet.

Don’t let it catch-

A shriek of pain and lightning and thunder and rain are twisted in one, echoing throughout the desert called life.

it was a silent splash
into the river
and all its bewitching curves

as it sank into his pores
his mouth his ears
his eyes his body

as one second of purity
washed countless years
of killings and being killed

cleansing him from the inside-out

then he sees him
on the other side

again.

for a moment they freeze
in their shock

the quiet ripples are no longer
silent as they scramble out to shore
as they ignore their bare bodies
as they reach for their veteran
killing machines

and for another moment

he watches him crawl up to shore
while he aims it at his head
his finger at the trigger

but in this moment

in their nakedness

stripped of identity

they are one and the same

they are no different

there is no violence no hurt no war no sadness no killing no hate no guns no knives no punches no kicks no grenades no trenches no shrapnel no-

and with a muted splash
he feels the river
of blood running down
his head

as the moment of realisation
slips away

it runs

all over me

clouds

soft, silent, sifting

through my messy and *****

hair for the

light bubbles and tousled curls

enveloping me in a breeze

of heat and warmth

falling onto all the

ugliness and dust

burning right down to my

heart of

stone, cracked by the cold

and i stand there for

years, decades, centuries

until it finally runs out, and

i collapse under the frozen burden

of air all around me

i shatter

without the

warm

running

water

The point of games is to play, not win. Not many people realise that.

We don’t ask people to win with us. We want to win. Why should they? We ask people to play with us - so that they lose. All we care about is the triumph, the podium, the trophy. We are blind to those who watch from the sidelines. We are blind to those who stand in the shadows, waiting for us to slip off the stage.

Life is a game we are all playing. You’ll never know where you’ll land next. Some people find this thrilling. Others are too scared to move - they forfeit their turn. Because one wrong move might lead you straight to the devil.

Out of the corners of your eyes, you espy the people cheating. Their hands are empty... or so they seem. Fingers stained red from paper-cuts and stab wounds are hidden under sleeves of things that really aren’t theirs.

Those that are caught are sent straight to jail - you see a group of them huddling at the corner. Only a few manage to get a double roll - the others rot there for eternity.

Then you have the cliques. You are in one yourself. Uniform in uniforms. Groomed to perfection. Groomed to win. You have an anger, a slight enmity for the others, that tints your eyes red. You don’t know where this comes from.

There are the lost. The losing players, the already lost. They wander around like ghosts. You wonder why some of them are smiling. Why should they be?

You look up, and the casino called “Love” flares and glares in your eyes. You’re not allowed in yet. But you know what goes on inside.

Catcalls and shrieks are daily occurrences. They mix together to form simply a distraction. Some people walk out of the minigame with laughter and love. Others stay forever.

The rolling of dice clatters and clashes. You watch as cards fall, as cards slit throats, as cards splatter onto the ground. You watch the people you thought you knew turn into monsters of want and desire. You watch the blood-red eyes mock the world. You watch the floating castle in the sky, perfection encapsulated. You know it’s all fake. You watch falling stars crash and burn.

This is the rhythm of your game. Of your life. They tell you to stick to the rules. Play the game obediently. End it well. They say all of this with a huge curve on their lips.

It’s your turn to roll the dice. It’s your turn to play. It’s your turn to win.

we draw the curtains as if
no one can see us
but the shadows imprinted
onto the fabric thinner than
your lies
tells us the whole story

we shut the doors as if
no one can get in
but really, all it takes
is one soft knock
and the walls come crumbling
down
down
down

we lock the gates as if
no one can climb over
but the seemingly sharp
spines are as blunt
as your cheap words,
cheaper than that
metal gate you bought

we pull the blinds as if
no one can pull them apart
but it’s us that’s blinded
to the purpose
of windows

we think we’re keeping them out
we’re just locking ourselves in

“I used to love too.”
My words leave cuts
On your already dead body
In my ****** arms.

The rubble of your bones
And the destruction of your
Lovely face
Leave cuts on my dead body.

The failure(s)
is/are on my part.

It’s all
my fault.

A touch of my finger
Leaves nothing but nothing
behind.

A breath from my lips
Kills and rots all life
That it reaches.

A shiver on my spine
Is the electric chair for
All that is loved.

A tear from my head
Floods cities storms worlds
And all I can do is cry.

As you bleed out on the floor
You flood my heart with your
Sweet, sweet blood.

And I enjoy every last bit
As you fade.
As I fade.

And I cry.

True love’s kiss
is the spindle on the spinning wheel.

I used to love too.

“We better just stop right now.”

the slogan of betrayal woven into a warning sign

but we are always too late to see it

as we crash past the red lights into the traffic of time

where mistakes cannot be rectified and problems cannot be solved

as the warning sign gets off one stop earlier than it should

and you are left on a one-way trip to nowhere

as you watch the stop sign crash into the front of the