I am
really good at
tearing away
people who love me.

an old fishermen village

narrow streets
unaware of time
asleep in the sun

ancient presence
of fishermen
and their nets
women seeking
the horizon
eyes narrowed in distress

ghostly presence

i stayed for hours
the tide flood in
violently
and went low
violently

i stayed
sat still
and watched
the clock mechanism
a gear
moving the earth
to the right
moving the sun
to the left
to sink it all
colours and light

and the fishermen
lit their pipes
and thought of
their women
and their warmeness

ghostly presence

an old deserted village
of dead fishermen
and their drowned women
the wreck of it all
in the haunting growl
of a nocturne sea

the wormy crawling

carving
pricking

a swarm hum
this sick agony
of stone wet cold

wrackful certitude
of the unseen

a pebble amongst pebbles
found to be thrown far

forgotten

buried my feet
in the river bed
deep in a freezing time
incapable to choose to flow or drown

got rid from the sand
looked for wings
tried a life-lift in the aurora
the heart heavy on a love consistency

neither sandy or fancy
could ground me or root me
all fails its gravity pull
extraneously i stare the flutter of my feet

Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid.

Haunted houses creep in and out
Giving life to the ghosts
Carving, clawing their way to the present
Leaving you bleeding from the eyes

Kiss them gently to retell their tales
Feel their dark caresses
Drawn forth from your gut
Fingers wrapped around your spine

They feed, oh so deeply
Tooth and fang deep inside
The pain amplifies, rippling
Keeping you immobile and trapped

Anguish sours softly bedded dreams
Their voices, electric, hallowed
Like nails down a chalkboard
Incapacitating your actions

Coiled muscles, anxious to explode
You want to lash out
Scream, drown out the past
Scatter those broken ghosts

But they overwhelm
And you cringe,
In the darkness
Until you see the light