We tend to extract the- 
complexity out of the mouth of simplicity,
counting till 10 is a necessity. 
But remains a struggle
in times of words nascency.
Trust me it's not a matter of literacy. 

You lack the visibility of our daily-
neurological battlefields
at the front line, we remain helpless and shieldless.

We're not pulling the triggers.
once shot at, can't be taken back
don't blame our mouths for shooting opinions -
blame an intuition that knows all the facts 

Wittiness comes at a price. 
Friend, I am sorry that you have to pay the bills, sometimes

Let’s dance
that dance on the edge of your guitar's strings.
the harmonies of life, play.
the way I remember it. 

A few years wiser
in the dark room, I sat 
to your late night confessions, I listened.
redeeming yourself.

Baby: empty those lungs 
one breath in, one breath out.

Let's Dance,
to the melodic sound of our tangled memories
l am listening, we are dancing.
the chords of my heart you're determined to keep playing;  
and you say: playing the Flatted Fifth, no more
the unbalanced energy you'll tune 
I look at the moon, and I think 
it's probably lunar lunacy.

Baby, empty those lungs
Let's Dance!

I am the flames Burning
Or so I thought
under the impression
I caused the fire

Little that I knew
I was the fuel to his
Fire

The year of HD colours
and endless mind-
rewiring sessions

I blink once, twice
hold my breath
zone out
slip to the nearest galaxy

I look
again
and still
you're

a Black & White complication
thousands miles away from
a grey and colour palette situation

Dad,
I am no longer your little girl
you can no longer protect me
not from the monsters within.

In a black hole you see me falling
In dark corners curling,
In the bottom of oceans sailing;
storms stonewalling.

Dad, you might think I am thralled -
But I tell you!

In my bed
I am appalling, trawling
reaching
for something to grasp
trying to calm myself down
Shoving the memories back.

Fighting the demons.
I see them
sprawling across
me
my dreams
my lungs
my THOUGHTS..
    my thoughts
          my thoughts...

DAD!!

I am betrayed
by my own mind...
          my body
          is REBELLING against me...

Despite the mountains
I trained
to carry
above my shoulders...

Some days -
Some days it feels
I am skinned alive...

One breeze of air
is enough to run sirens
alerting a world of
A BILLION neurons

Leaving me
stranded
agonised
looking for shelter,
wishing I can
crawl back
to my mother's womb
    sit, curl, and hold my legs -
    grasp the umbilical cord
    hear her heartbeat
1... 2...
Breath... In... Out...

Dear Dad,
don't you worry.
You raised a strong girl.
patiently she learnt -
how to beautifully braid
her fears and tears.

Your little girl
learnt how to play-
with the monsters nested in the head....
and the monsters under the bed.... into poetic ink
and art on the wall
she transformed them all.

She is a survivor, who copes

That said...

Every now and then
in my own bubble
you'll see me
slipping
in my favourite corner
sitting
unconsciously
graves for my unborn children
digging
not seeing a point for
living.

Deep inside
I will be silently screaming
I am brave
I am brave
But I am
slightly cursed
scarred
wishing I was still
your little girl

It's scary that I crave
The Blue & Black
On a **** canvas

A charmer with a soul as dark as ghoul
alluring the strongest smartest, of you.

In a moment of lust.
in a moonless night.
under layers of charcoal thoughts;
whilst the shadows glare and dance-
he'll SWEEP you off your feet!
your own existence, he’ll make you regret.

Ohhh Diablo, Diablo. Who did you sin with?!
WHAT abomination have thee brought on us?
thy hell, thy scalding hell is, heaven compared to his.

Backwards I speak.
in dead languages I breathe.
my bones I break, heal and break
music to his ears
all day, all day
my bones for his entertainment I break
the long nights we await.

Don’t be fooled!
he is a gracious, charmer.
your woes he’ll be inflating
your pride will rip and chew.

The blood drops dripping still.
you see it
he'll say what blood?
I haven't eaten in days, doll.

Drip drop, drip drop.

No exorcism is strong enough.
to free your
he'll know how to ****** the evil-
hidden in the cracks of your soul.

Not looking for subordination
he ain't Lucifer
he is the son
with the 7 sins done
for the 8th looking under the sun.

Together with his doll
the obsidian damp nights floating
in her raven coloured, double laced dress
his mouth with her blood smeared.
mind you the feeding, denying still.

drip drop, drip drop
in pain there was rapture
delusional prey she might be
yet delusionally gleeful
Oh what a doll!

"Oh Father Diabol who have you sinned with?
I am the abomination
dolls I'll be gathering
on the shelf abandoning
our ending in blood I shall be writing"

On the shelf panting woes
listening to the lying tongue
cursed in love
with Lucifer's son