i have been coming in your dreams
making you *** in your jeans
i **** your soul
i will be releasing your spiritual
i will work you out
get you right with the physical
you can ride me
like you ride the elliptical
go on and on a loop

don't it feel good when i go deeper
wouldn't feel nice if all night i was in you
Imma put in work
because tonight girl you deserve it
wrapping your legs around my neckbone

but am i really drunk? or
have i just been drinking
water from my alcohol bottles,
pretending to feel the burn as it slides
down my throat?

or have my cigarettes been not
lighted all this while, just me *******
away at tasteless white sticks of tobacco,
staring at my ceiling and wishing i was dead?

i'm so predictable, it's starting
to hurt,

because instead of dreams, i'm counting nightmares.

instead of lovers, i'm counting bones.

instead of life, i'm living hell.

Forgetting is the only clarity.*

It was a day of forgetting.
No unquiet dreams or
casual reunions with the dead
who wander the halls of sleep,
the bodies of someone else’s loss.
No ghosts in the gazebo.
No echoes in the fading light.

Exiting sleep’s empty waiting room,
She woke. Blue sky blinked into her eyes.  
The room’s climate began to clear.
There was writing on the wall.
Old fragments came to closure.
The windows slowly turned to mirrors.

She fiddled. She soared.  
She played with her ancestors’ building blocks.
She lent a myth to god.
She stood in a garden with five black stones.
She foretold an eclipse,
Burned the witch of winter,
Stepped in the same river twice.

The moment froze.
Then there it was.
The compound inviolate paradox
at the heart of things,
the answer flickering in light and shade,
to the sound of a child’s voice,
then the roaring wind.
She chuckled as it faded to a point of light
then vanished, like the picture on an old TV,
Like the moon shrinking into the alarm clock’s face.

Her breath brewed clouds above her forehead.
She sat aloof in the empty air,
Alone in the immense morning,
At rest in this inviolable disconnection,
the clear cold innocence of now.

Eyes searching desperately for answers I do not have
I cannot give,
Won't give.

The resonance of pain too much
Can't filter it,
Even endurance groans heavily at the need to press on

Illusions cast shadows all the time
You pick the ones you want,
Like,
Desperately need.

You believe them,
Questioning them gently,
till you fool yourself with plausible reasons.
You won't go to the core,
You're afraid of what lives there.

Taunting with its pretty whitewashed name
Nightmares parading as daydreams
Its the perfect master of deception
No one escapes it
It knows you so intricately,
Where every seed of doubt remains unwatered
twisting every nerve given to compulsion,
Deftly it hides you amongst the comfortable lies.

Applause,
Bravo,
A standing ovation
The illusuionst,
every slight of mind, sheer perfection!

What need is there of our pretty sunbleached truth
When you are your own masterful pretty little liar.

Now look what you've done,
Made your cake of clotted fears and twisted fruits
A recipe for disaster
Shhhh,
Mastermind of the tears of one.

Has a nice ring to it,
Don't you think?

Struggling to  stay above the meniscus
Stagnant waters breed contempt
No push, no pull, just demands
Oily film clings in colourful swirls mocking as it suffocates
Each breath cut a micron smallker
A slow agonising drawl off a rabid dogs tooth
Stuck in an endless moment
Confined to a predestined conclusion
All forgone
I've given up on the illusion
Come what may
Its not the wait that kills,
I died a while ago
This is something else entirely  
Futile frustration
Living ends soon enough
After life, however,
is another matter.

She twists and turns under sheets and covers.
Sleep evades her as fire burns her cold skin.
Darkness shrouds like tapestries of terror
Warding off consoling light –
“Let me in… let me in.”
Boards creak and nails scratch the walls
Inching its way towards its fidgeting prey.
A monstrosity stands before her eying the
Trembling body –    
“Let me play…let me play.”
It leans forward to her ear and whispers,
“I know what you’ve done, what a shame,”
Its serpentine tongue licks her cheek.
“I thought you were better, free from blame.
But you’re like the rest, foul and unclean,
A lump of mass and unfit to live.
Unworthy of redemption, so obscene –  
Let me give… let me give.”
Sobs erupt from her quivering lips and gasps
For air from the weight of her filthy sin.
It caressed her hair with its skeletal, scaly
Hands, and kindly asked to
“Let me win… let me win.”
But a streak of light from the rising morning
Sun sent Guilt back into the dark.
A new day, a new beginning, an
Opportunity for a fresh start.
But from the depths of what has been,
There it waits for you to
*Let it in… let it in

Be a man
Said the father to his son,
Men don’t cry,
To this social construct we
Must abide:

Masculinity –
Equated with strength and
Emotional reserve

Femininity -
characterized by
Fragility and sensitivity

What if strength is much more?
What if strength has no gender?

Strength

The ability to be yourself
And pursue your aspirations despite
Social pressures and ridicule

Strength

To maintain composure and show restraint
When feeling threatened rather than allowing
Fear or anger wrest control.

Strength

To sympathize and tolerate
Those who think differently than you.

Lioness prowling the savannah
While the lions enjoy their slumber.