I killed another one this week
in front of everybody
her beauty gradually faded
as I starved her
and watched her wither
at one point I regretted it
and tried to revive her
I gave her plenty
but she drowned
and left a foul smell
of decay

I cannot recall
time
before Him
before pain

I was naked
and blindfold
I think I tried
to escape
but He caught me
suddenly all was dark
I cannot recall
anything
but pain

And I cannot escape
He has taken my legs
and replaced them
my arms too
with metal bars
ending in o-rings
He tied me up

I think I tried
to bite Him
when He tried
to **** my mouth
the pain
Then it was dark
and I woke up
with rubber teeth

I saw a glimpse
of the room
the pain
the chains
the hooks
and His face

I can no longer see
He took out my eyes
with frightful images
and acid
more pain
but I still remember
watching the others
me
on video
in pain

I cannot hear
only His breath
bearing
the screams in my mind
echo
but nobody hears

But I can smell
I smell
Him
I smell iron chains
and clasps
And I smell His breath
His sweat
His *****
I smell blood
and burnt skin
and pain
maybe my own
maybe theirs
I don't know

I understand now
He is God
I am His
creation
His toy

Right now
I regenerate
in time capsules
of Elizabeth Arden
Ceramides
and tomorrow
I shall look myself
again
like the picture
I keep in my head

I want to capture
your thoughts
and manipulate
your dreams
to make you write
forever
in my name

...
and I want to write
those dreams
and capture
each fantasy
like frames
of a disturbed mind

I want to sleep
forever
and dream
of things
I do not dare to
make real

breaks
extraordinaire
make tingles linger
through work
until later...

poetry became
reality
words literally
smashed her
and she
transformed

it was poetry
that started it
the revolution
in her

despite their numbers
she never learned
her craft
from
them

I was a ******
before

I met your words
My words were innocent
Unspoiled
Insecure
Before

You forcefully
took me
***** me
With your lyrical might
Of words
Your confidence
In words
impropriety
Through
Words
I am no longer
Who I was

Before

Your words

Carelessly
A wet Icarus
seeks
her frozen sun
and sinks

The ignorant nightingale
sings happily
to welcome spring
in Suburbia

Sly
like a serpent silently
slipping
under the skin
slithering
up though the spinal cord
to secretly settle
inside your skull
where it will sit
and sedate
your senses
with sweet seductive
songs of
sleep

In the basement
In his secret room
He breeds
Dragons

Still tasting it
feeling the rush
off its fill
although hours
nay! days have passed
without

Oh! The hunger
The yearning for another
taste
longing to feast
on the flesh
and the blood
visualised
in words

Starvation
days without
even drops
dripping
****** letters
onto a page
inviting to drink
days without
sentences filling
screens
like a syringe
ready
to penetrate
the soul
with the essence
of dream

I stare
at the windows of subtle despair,
broken
but rejecting repair,
I need air,
I want to grab what is not there
so I tear
at my skin
trying to find out if I dare
to lay it bare
the bone
release the scare
and test
if you really care.

She had been surprised
The first time he approached her
Commented on her style
Her linguistic attributes
And she was new to the game

She had been flattered
When he had asked her to pose for him
Invited her into his world
His territory
And she was new to the game

She had been willing
When he changed the game
Provoked her to change her act
Her art
And she was still new to the game

She had been hungry
When he let his art penetrate her
He invaded every thought
every dream
and she was no longer new to the game


She had been desperate
When she had found that he was gone
But found traces of him everywhere
With others
And she could no longer partake in the game

She was determined
Once she found herself again
And started creating her own life
Her own game
He would not know this game

My feet hurt
I have been walking for weeks
Barefoot
Through ashes, eggshells and mud
Away from the cursed place.
I try not to look
At the stakes aligning the road

But I hear the dripping
Of blood from their mutilated limbs
Onto the ground
Like ink
I smell weapons piercing organs
Slashing veins
Quills puncturing eyeballs
And bloated egos
The sweet smell of iron
In my nostrils
I taste it, the blood
The deceit
Every breath makes me sick

But I continue my journey
Tattered wings dragging
Leaving ****** trails
On every leaf
Although exhausted
And ruined
I walk on
With him by my side
Knowing that what I did
Mattered

He found me
Lost on a page
Among shadows
Slightly broken

He read me
In my words
And showed me
Another world
With his

He amazed me
With every syllable
With every rhyme
The wealth
In his world
Of language
And artful
Imagery

He invited me
Trusted me
To take a look
Beyond
His fabulous rhymes
Beyond
His paper self
Beyond surface
And mask

I still get lost
In paper worlds
But I fear not
For I have a guide
A paper friend
Better than me
This time

We all return to dust
Even if God we trust
We will fertile this soil
When we no longer toil

Yet we fight and we bleed
We'll take more than we need
Go to war preaching peace
Treat humanity like a disease

So we all turn to ash
we will die with a flash
Even if we are kings
All our money will not buy us wings

Well,  I promised somebody to write
About air so I thought that I might
Try to write with a beat
Maybe shake off this heat
Flapping beats in the air I take flight

I use heatwaves as lifts to the sky
Upon gentle warm winds I fly high
I don't need any wings
Don't need any helpful things
I get upwinds from you when you sigh

With letters equipped
And grammar as our harness
We set out to explore
Through linguistic playfulness

Intrepid explorers we are
In the realm of language
Seeking beauty and outlets for pain
Finding use for the worst kinds of baggage

On lofty expressions we climb
With masks of rhymes to lend air
And we endlessly seek new frontiers
Be they haiku or tanka we'll go there

For to dare venture into adventure
Using only your pen and your mind
Letting others read into your soul
Isn't that intrepid defined

in the dark
a heart is pleading
mistress, have mercy!

On a day like this
so beautiful
happiness is
a fluffy pillow
into which I sink
and suffocate
unless
I **** something
or watch someone
inflict pain
in theory
to balance
my perfect
reality

sometimes words
leave the world
breathless
uncertain
until their return

Words
Immaculate
and beautiful
strings
in patterns intricate
and complex
for strength and viscosity
I hope to spin
and weave
into a web
so I may catch you
if you fall

I suppose I ought to
watch news and drama series
split in bite sizes
by commercial breaks
on television
meant to make me spend
to fit in

I suppose I ought to
read and like Fifty Shades of Grey
and buy fluffy handcuffs
or ******
with blushing cheeks
with my friends
in town
to fit in

I suppose I ought to
tend my garden
and plant pretty flowers
around a well kept lawn
with clean well groomed children
playing neatly
with their dolls
to fit in

I suppose I ought to
stop working at all times
stop writing poetry
and chatting online
with strangers
or students
to act my age
and fit in

a forbidden triangle
fantasy
skewered between them
in her mind

A sudden spring
a rush
between slender stems
long dormant
awakened one morning
by droplets
of subtle fertile heat
A sudden spring
a glow
in late summer

I saw them get on the lorry
packed with people
drunk with sunshine, sand
and salt water
smelly people
stacked like sardines
to save a little on the fare

I saw them head away
away from the beach
away from the people
let people off
suddenly
and then drive off
something was off

I saw only five people left
driving into the bush
two of them slightly confused
confused by the terrain
and that only they would remain
heading back
strangely
via the outback

I saw them stop in nowhere
putting cuffs on the man
shouting things he didn't understand
dealing blows
and kicks
that he did
one at a time

I saw the others like he did
how they treated his wife
had her beg for her life
and had him beg and cry
and beg
to let them spare her
but they all wanted to try

I saw them get in the lorry
all five of them again
heading for a small town
where they found an atm
for that one last blow
of using their credit cards
before they would let the couple go

I saw them leave
only three in the lorry
the couple were left in town
shocked and scared
in an unknown town
they had no idea
why
I saw it all

He never knew
That I was there
Looking and wishing
To be everso near

He never knew
What I had planned
While observing so long
He would not understand

He never saw me
When I covered his face
In a sedating cloth
And dragged him to this place

He never resisted
I had given him a lot
So I might have the time
To prepare all I had got

He never knew
Until he came to his senses
Just how much I had wanted
To end my pretenses

Then he knew
How I had longed
How I had secretly yearned
How I felt that I had been wronged

Then he knew
That I would make him burn
For all that time
He had unknowingly
Made me yearn

I don't know how
But my world
had turned
RED
When I woke up

Vertical stripes
Had been drawn
Down the walls
Towards the floor
And a pool
Sticky drying
Beneath them
And the spotted
Windows

In the mirror
The flowers
My hands
And my feet
Looked raw
Like I had escaped
Another world
To enter into
This
RED
with nails
And a gun

Wide awake
I crawled
and I escaped
Another one

ivory skin
did not foretell
how her touch
would burn

I cut myself
to see the blood
the contrast of red to the white
surface
to check
if there is still a heart beating
underneath the smooth
finish

I cut my children
but they don't notice
it is more like mental cropping.
I cut emotions
into bitesize portions
they can play with
and learn to become good
cutters themselves

My husband is a cutter too
he cuts attention
into little appetizers of affection
and serves it around
wearing a big generous smile
the biggest pieces are reserved
for the screen
and the xbox controller

I cut myself open
online
words gush out of the open wound
luring predators to feed
on dangerous conversations
inviting the Devil to join
as I don't trust the angels
who once lured me into this...

magic sprung
from the words strung
between two
opposite fools

in her tower
Rapunzel is waiting
for a ******
revolution

I met a man one day
in a park
where we both watched the world
go by
as we sat on the bench
with dreamy eyes

He was telling stories
not just to me
but to the air
to the whole world present
that day in the park
and I stayed to listen

This body does not make sense
in this skin
in this reality
it breathes in its superficiality
but only in the past tense
it does not sense
sensibility
sanity spins
is sensitive to sensory
scams
synapses shoot
send shivers down its spine
This mind is spineless, anyway
always finds time
for stupid irrelevant
irrational unpractical rhymes
through which it mimes
an existence
where at least the mind
makes sense
sometimes

we bleed
but nobody sees this
our blood is invisible
our scars go deep
but fail to surface
and attract attention
in the media
we bleed
and try to stop it
with pale green bandages
of soothing sedation
in piles of junk
impulse purchases
we bleed
and our wounds overflow
with trash
in our collective conscience
and cause clots
seisures
and re-loads
we bleed
but we refuse to die

I need to ground myself
touch and feel the grass
smell the roses
for they are there

I need to ground myself
stop chasing that high, that rush
and let go
for it is time

I need to ground myself
start breathing the analogous real
and **** my avatar
before she kills me

taking his hands
putting away the knife
she saved him

white surface square
centered but
underneath is colour
underneath and
at the edges
of white
spills of colour
comments
covered as if sought hidden
forgotten colour
ecstatic
underneath the pristine
white
square

like a vaccum chamber
the suffocating calm
cancer
reveals layers
of masqued chaos
covered in clean canvas
sheets
and under it
the cameleon creeps
survives
through the cracks
and creased papers
ex-communications
conclusions
with no closure
a circus
with nothing but clowns

he was given wings
preliminary ones
for testing
in a safe environment

but he took them outside
and flew
higher
than anyone had imagined

Would the poet in his elevated state
of illuminated enhancement of
conscience,
would he picture the beauty in this
figure
this face
not to act upon it
but to ponder and capture
in its truest essence of being
this figure
and this face
their transcience of colour
for eternity to marvel at?

Would he,
the poet, perceive
and capture this?

from the way she studied his moves
how his hands moved
how his lips moved
the way he spoke
the way he wrote
from the way she studied his face
I could tell
from the way he moved his fingers
across the keyboard
across his face
through his hair
around his pen
from the way he moved his hands
I could tell
she loved him
she had watched him for a while
she felt she knew him
but he had no idea she existed
outside his screen

I took a trip today
let myself go
on a quiet rush
unnoticed
and in plain sight
I let myself go

I took a trip today
let my blood go
on a mad rush
unwarranted
but deliberate
I let my blood rush