This is where I stand.
Intrinsic beauty in each drop of tear
that splashes my eyes.
Pride in my unclad figure
like faith in a benign tumor
Behold the majesty of surrender
as I severe ties with a talking mind
that feeds on attention; evermore
Since I stand,free of giving.
Behold! I no longer am
the hands you can shake
or the lips you can kiss
My peers envy those tears
they cannot cry.

Tina RSH

Those elastic hands
having but coupled a river of tears
and wisps of yielding smoke
to begin with
a life
unknown and unblinking
like a pair of dead eyes
and play pretend
or pretend to play
for watery dreams
and smokey must-bes
and ought nots
somewhere in line with a broken smile
and a misty sense of senselessness
a spinal cord snapped
so did million daggers shoot out
from each vertebra
tears flooded out of her ears
and smoke forced the air
out of her lungs.
She turned away from the dread
so she could rest her head
on soft shoulders
and yet
none could bear ever the weight
of her sorrow.
Now both lungs dead
eyes closed
lying on her bed
she carries her weight with a finger
and carves out eyes on her forehead
she swallows light to linger
forever in her chest
as a heart
nobody would give her.

Once a stubborn streamline
through solid eyes of a stone heart
now beaming to the cracked heart of glittering glit
broken china
torrents pump out of unadjusted dreams
once clear and aglow
once for a reason battling
now battered war veterans, each
oh my shattered existence!
oh my evaporated blood!
Those lips of sincerity
which blessed soul is to kiss
and rob the truth away from?
O my wretched flesh! Speak
And tell of the fractured bones
countless nights of moon watching
and sun hugging awaiting his scent
that never arrived.
Burnt burnt throat of mine
and rapturous moments of his.
Aye God! Send justice.

If insanity is a crime, I am on for a death penalty.

If dreams belong to a third world, I am definitely not earthly.

If man is to partake but in all societies, I doubt my species.

If hearts are closed to love and close to feud, I am so hollow in the chest.

And if it is truth everyone claims to own, I am most certainly a liar.

Every breath I take reeks of calamity
I start counting the biscuit bunnies I had yesterday.
which sadly reach up to eight.
Not my favourite number at all
I look like an exploding fireball
but despite that everything is dark
and ruddy.
like the insides of a trash bin .
My hands are clammy,
throat, a jammed highway of emotions!
If I used ten thousand oceans
as ink, and a million deserts as parchment,
I would be unable to describe my pain
for it was born a torchering antagonist,
a piece of congealed blood in my lungs
and my breath reeks of calamity.

Like resistless air torn by a bullet
Life unmasked itself in a baby
innocent, playful, illiterate...
for half a second or so,
and ran!
Past Mother who, amazed by your giggles,
called you mon âme!
Past father; arriving home
to say goodnight,
and a quick wave before bed.
Past school days and holidays,
taught to eat books and ***** information
lost through thorough knowledge!
Aye! Aye! Black cats and red eyed bats.
Past the lustbird who made love
to your left ear and slammed the other
shut!
Life passed your very black hair and set it white.
Seems like the bullet hit sharp in your chest.
And now a baby cries bald..

I asked God his majesty wether I was worthy of the breath
That comes and goes warranting no continuation
He asked what I would gain over a sudden death?
What dreams I yet had unfulfilled, What sleeps I had yet to sleep
To let the weary night beam in relief, and the day twirl
in the excitement of awaiting fortune, and to take a leap
toward the untamed sun, for a heap of mercy.
He knew all I had deprived my sight of, to flee like birds before a bear.
For life in all its solace is no forebearing, but erupts in discourtesy.
So I embraced an eye and kept weeping
for the breath in my lungs was worth keeping.