He can’t explain the pain
Like boot prints on his brain
And it only seems to subside
When she is beside him.
Then, it begins to slowly dim.
When she is not around
He can be found on the ground
Screaming just like his head,
Full of frenzied villagers instead
Of what everyone else feels
And thinks, as he again sinks
Into that swamp of horror
And anguish. Moreover,
He knows he is alone in this.
This is not from her kiss
It is from its absence.
He’s not addicted to absinthe
Like some Victorian poet.
He’s insane now and knows it.

But she can calm mind
In the deluge he always finds
When she goes away a while.
First he loses the desire to smile
Then he can’t talk any more.
He forgets what words are for.
He only howls and raves.
He knows nobody can save him.
He has but to swim to shore
From the wreck that is his peace.
It is his only real release.
It’s all that heals his soul.
She has become the goal
His only purpose in the world
Is in the hands of this one girl;
This woman, elevated to deity.
His only true reality.

How can this happen, he cries.
He doesn’t understand the whys
And wherefores that turns love,
Completion and fulfillment
Into horrifying derailment
Of all his hopes and dreams
And fills his heart with screams
Like a little boy on a wrong bus.
And nobody there to discuss things
To help him see what is happening
And why the one thing he cares for
Doesn’t fulfill him anymore
Unless she is here to hold his hand.
He fails completely to understand.

Brent Kincaid
2/13/2015

screen obsession
has taken possession
our lives are not our own
we spend all our time
looking down
at laptop or smart phone
why do we need
the data feed
at every living moment
perhaps we could learn
to ditch the phone
and just think of what the day meant?

"Why Fruit Ninja?"
"What makes you so happy
About slicing and dicing fruit?"
"I don't understand."

I hear it all the time.
But I can't explain
Why slicing fruit with a giant knife
Brings so much joy.

Honestly, I find it a bit odd
That they can't see
Everything in front of their eyes.
It's plain to see.

For me, at least,
It's a simple choice.
I can slice the fruit,
Or slice my wrists.

I can bring pain to myself
Or the fruit.
Which one
Would you prefer?

I prefer the cutting
of my wrists.
However, society thinks
Cutters are insane.

We have to fit
The "socially acceptable" standard
So I'll spend my days slicing fruit.

My nights will be
Consumed by bleeding.
Bleeding wrists.
Serving their justice for my crimes.

Fruit ninja by day.
Wrist ninja by night.

Surreal thoughts devour me..
Like an echo from an ancient god..
Yuh keep summoning me..
Lure me in to this mess..
But i cant stop..
I cant refuse..
Coz this i have for yu,
Is beyond my control..
Its a sin i cant walk away from..

I used to **** my stomach in,
Till my lungs would ache and split,
Then I learned to pull my muscles up,
And I'd find a better fit.

I learnt from magazines,
and TV shows,
The things that told us,
To always shrink, to never grow.

I learnt from my mother and my sister,
Who would sit and pinch their thighs,
With a sigh and a shriek,
About needing to go down a size.

I became obsessed,
But not with food, wine, or shopping,
My obsession was with the fat under my skin,
Growing fast and never stopping.

I became obsessed with numbers,
Numbers even though I hated math,
People telling me to stop, to eat,
The voices in my head would clash.

I feared that I would grow,
But also I would shrink,
Fingers trailing gaunt on skin,
My madness slipping from the brink.

I feared that I wouldn't wake up,
The next morning, the next week,
But I couldn't stop myself from finding,
The skinny I'd always seek.

I'm not fat, I know I'm not,
And I know weight does not define me,
But I see the bone, I strive to see it more,
Without bone what would I be?

He locked me in his atmosphere so tight, he squeezed I couldn't breath...I struggled, I fight.
He clipped my wings and took away from me something within

I've never creeped yet he would follow me, lurking in my shadows. He became my nightmare, in my thoughts he appeared so vividly.

I was driven mad, I was always sad as I lost the space I had. "Don't do this, don't wear that"...I wasn't a ******* handicap! I start a fire to turn him into ashes, now I was losing all righteousness I had.

I was a victim in my own skin, I drew from him his curse of sins... Scorned and dangerous... I hurt even when words were unspoken. "I love you, please stay" was all he could say.

I looked hell in the face as I slowly broke away. No I refuse to be controlled, I just cannot be controlled. His obsession grew old and I grew tired of it all, I wanted it no more.


S.B

Sweet as the pantries,
She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories,
Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth.

Basing herself upon these coatings,
The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind.
"What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre.
Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook.

While ignoring being a  pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates.

******: Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves.

Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her.

Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar.

Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity

Love is Emotion
Love is Passion
Love is Rejection
Love is Obssession
Love is Transition..


Love is
Going through the pain
Again and again
Over and over,
yet again !!

Being in love is the best phase
The Missing,
The Craving,
The Feeling
The Thinking,
The Caring,
The Loving....

But soon the phase is over...
And Then follows

The Guilt
The Pain
The Hurting
The Blaming
The Shaming
The Hating
The Name calling..

This is acceptable
The parting shots

But
Where does it all lead to??
The worst is yet to begin,

The Obsession..
The Rejection
The Vengeance...
The Stalking
The Blackmailing....
The Threatening...

&
Then the worst phase begins
Love is Lost..
Love is Dreaded..
Love is Goaded..
Love is Loaded
Love is Roasted.
And
The memory is darkened..
The torment awakened..

The once beautiful Love turns
Suffocating emotion..
When
Love becomes Unsettling
Love becomes Unnerving
Love becomes Unstoppable
Love becomes Unsympathising
Love becomes Unwanted..
Love becomes Unrequited

Then
Love becomes a question
And
An unsolved emotion..!!
It becomes a simple
understanding
gone wrong forever,

Failing to believe
The love can end..
The relation can die..
The fizz can evaporate..
The things can come to end...

If you ever
loved someone,
wish them happiness,
If you ever
loved someone let it go
If you ever
loved someone then
LET LOVE PREVAIL...
!!


Sparkle In Wisdom
Oct 2018

This is another set of poems i wrote that I have been trying to turn into a song. It's composed loosely, for that's the way I write - kind of from the center out, and I don't like to rework my words too much because I find that it alters the original intended feeling, so please forgive the grammarical errors and call it creative liscense.

I've been a fool,
I've been a fool, it's true
Now I live without you
Without you by my side
I can't go on
I don't want to go on without you

If at night you hear the wind is moaning
Your lonely soul is groaning
Think back, you'll find
I'm on your mind
There was a time when you were mine

Everytime the phone rings and there's a hang-up on the line
If you search for what is lost it's me you'll find
At the end of the mystery...

Though I'm a poor man,
And I'm tired
I'll never tire of loving you.

If you're alone and you can't stop crying,
cry,
cry for me, too.
I'll weep for you.
There was a time when you were mine.

Footnote: This was writen about obssession a long time ago, but now I think it's more about the subject just THINKING he was obssessed. And no, it's not about me but, in my writing I have always been able to empathize with various points of view.