you are a giant
for me to climb over
i would climb, but
my spirit's broken, see.
so i crawl instead
over your legs,
you don't even mind
that i claw at your skin
sneaking glances
at the giant within.
when i make it to your thigh
i'm parched, so dry,
scared i'll disintegrate
and float away.
i push on, to your pelvis.
i made a camp on your hipbone,
licking what moisture i could find there.
you didn't mind when i set up my tent
made of ash and birch bark
i fell asleep for hours, awoke
with new zest
i skipped up your spine
until i tripped and you split,
exposing the marrow that tasted like wine.
i patched you up as best i could
then embarrassed, hurried on.
i played hopscotch on your ribcage
and got stuck there for days
until i was scared you were bored
and would wish me away.
i spent time
rubbing your shoulders
with my footsteps
as if to soothe you, because
i couldn't hold you.
i took a brisk walk up your neck
then stopped to stare
at your ascending jawline.
i thought of taking a strip of your tongue
and hanging myself there
from your chin.
but that's when you moved-
picked me up
and stored me in your cheek
and i learnt to nestle between your teeth
and treat you not like a giant
but like my home.
though, you forced me
to stand in front of the mirror
and say 'i love you'
thirty times a day.
telling me what to do.
forcing me to tell me,
and not you.

For seven odd seasons I felt you rock your self to sleep.

Seventy miles or seven inches, your heart beat synced with mine and I could feel you as you did me.

An empty life till I was seventeen, it took seven tries, seven trials, seven lonely walks down seven flights to break the curse of sevens.

Seven scares, seventy seven days and seven hours left the magic dead, buried seven feet deep, my heart torn into seven million pieces.

I dream of seventy. The seven thousand hours it will take to piece this heart together, to get it to beat once again.

I dream of seventy. My heart, old, patched, will beat once more. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeep!

the best thing on earth is when you breathe
and the night, like a lollipop lures you, by bringing you sweet sleep,  sometimes
and  other times taking it away,
and when you're alone and taxes don't scare you anymore,
and  the rent no longer is waiting for you, the wife is threatening no one,
children stopped screaming, we want, dad doesn't leave but he doesn't wake up either,
the best thing is God, -  God takes you in his arms like a man patched up with love
and you close your eyes and dream how the best thing on earth is to breathe freely

Melodies once created my identity,
an addiction-driven crisis mixed with anxiety and loneliness,
I longed for love yet my ears tuned into hardship.

Melodies once molded my identity,
a clean and pure existence mixed with clarity and acceptance,
I longed for love yet my ears tuned into freedom.

Melodies once saved my soul,
a newly-formed identity mixed with a fresh conscience and patched relations,
I live with love for now my ears are satisfied with my lover's melodies.

completed finished done folded ended
defeated concluded
aborted                                                         ­                     
terminated finalized killed annihilated dispatched
vaporized settled                     destroyed dropped
discontinued stopped broken shut down cut
off                                   ceased over halted frozen
barricaded desistance executed
dissolved                                                 ­ overcome gone
ruined wrecked crushed depleted spoiled
shattered

So long, old friend.
The way has lit a path
To new places,
But the bruises we have shared
And patched together
Through the years
Will not be forgotten.

I miss you
And I’ll be missing you
Old friend.
For the clock ticks
Us forever apart
No matter how close
And yet, still,
I know you’re there for me.

Brothers we are
You and I,
Old friend,
And I wish you
The very best in life
As you’ve made mine
Worthy of smiling back on.

And looking forever before my sight
Will I be in waiting
Of our next meeting.
For the way has lit a path
To new places;

So long, old friend.

Sometime ago, years as it would seem
I saw the devil in my room
He was sitting there in the corner watching me
And I didn’t know why

He sat with pus-filled eyes and patchy skin
He sat naked holding a can of black spray paint
I was nine
It felt like it could have happened yesterday
But it was some time ago, years as it would seem
Since the devil visited me and it wasn’t a dream


He didn’t talk to me; he remained still and quiet
I was afraid but then I wasn’t
I went to bed and he tucked me in
And I didn’t know why

He placed his fingers to my lips, gesturing to be silent
I obeyed and watched as he walked to my door quietly
It was 9pm
But it felt much later in the night
When the Devil paid me a visit in my home
Killing my family and leaving to roam.


Before he left he showed me my mother, on the ground
My father in the bath
My sisters, in pieces in the sink
And told me to embrace the moment

“You never knew it, but these people didn’t love you”
He told me soothingly, “They wanted to hurt you”
It was December 9th
But it felt like October, as he sprayed the number on the walls
“Are you the devil I asked?” Tears ran down my eyes.
“Yes.” He said, “I’m your liberator.” He advised.


I never saw the Devil like that again.
I left my house and told the neighbors.
And the police came and took me away
I never said goodbye to those who raised me

I was raised by an uncle until I was eighteen
Then I left to become more than what I was
I had always wondered if I would see the Devil again
I was 19
When I vowed to find him, the liberator and murderer
I would take him back to hell and back even further


Years later, now in adulthood
I long to search for the Devil again
The same devil who paid me a visit when I was a boy
The same that liberated me through false hope

Years under training, through police cadet then detective
I stumbled through the underground of vigilance
The underbelly of corruption and deception
It was 2009
I had seen the darker side of people: the slaughters, poisons and infant killers
The victims of **** and molestation, the beatings and thieving distillers


From one clue to the next I found
Families murdered, but with one member still alive
Whether a boy or a girl.
To lay witness to the acts willed by the one

A pattern was laid and I followed it accordingly
I was hot on the trail, chasing records in asylums
Convicted kidnappings, victims’ confessions
I was 29
A 911 called was patched, describing a man breaking into a house; it was him
I took the call and hurried to the address, to stop the lights from going dim.


I drove to the inner city, an unknown borough
And was surprised to find the address I received was to a closed down church
A Catholic cathedral, condemned and left to dust
But I saw lights inside and broke through the doors

The church was old and dark; cold without spark
The lights came from the Altar, where sacrifice was offered
It was 9pm
There I saw the Devil in the flesh, with a little child
And his appearance was the same as I remembered but more wild


He outspread his arms and welcomed me to his home.
All around him red candles were set ablaze
My heart sunk and drifted in fear
My skin sweated from the sweltering heat I revered

“Why have you done this!?” I yelled, “All this time?”
He smiled and wiped the yellow tears from his eyes
9 children
Walked out from the altar, carrying pitchers of unknown liquid.
I was silently subdued by what was unexpected and wicked


The door slammed shut behind me. The stone figures of angels moved
They crawled from the stone and moaned; touching themselves
They encircled me. They grabbed hold of me
“Why?” I cried, asking the devil who approached me.

“I liberated you from a life without truth.” He said
“I showed you the reality of God’s domain.” He told me. I was left weak
“Why nine?” I asked
I asked again. “Why nine children, the nine liberalizations and family deaths?”
“Because you were led astray” He said, “Was is it 9 or is a 6?” he whispered under his breath.


I looked down and indeed there were only six children.
Along with three demons.
Laughing and dancing as the church was consumed
In a blazing fire in the night of the devil.

The six children poured the pitchers down on the ground.
“You will bathe in the blood of their families and burn in this fire.” The devil said
9 minutes
I felt the the fire and the collective blood engulf my body whole
My skin burned and crisped. Everything burned including my soul


Once again I was released from a world of pain
Both accounts were not of my consent
And only one I agreed with
Save the moment I met the devil

It was many years ago when it all happened
My family butchered, the number nine sprayed on the wall
I was 9 years old
But then again maybe I was 6. And the Devil was me; a desire to ****
The demons were my guilt and I took my own life to stop the thrill

But it was some time ago, years as it would seem
Since the devil visited me and it wasn’t a dream

I do not want to get too attached
Latched onto this idea that you won't go
It seems my heart you've already patched
We're a perfect match, don't you think so?

You've emptied out the grief in my heart
I found a lost part of my soul
I'm embracing this brand new start
If you leave I'm afraid I won't be whole.

It's your companionship I crave
This relationship is what I need
Your kiss is the only one that can save
My lips from crying out with greed.

I want everything, the good and bad
And the grey area in between
I would try my hardest not to be sad
If for once you'd just say what you mean.

I'm in the process of being repaired
Filtering out what was once broken
I don't want my anxiety bared
Or my messed up past awoken.

Sleeping dogs are better off dreaming
There's no need to open their eyes
Since you've arrived my heads been teeming
With thoughts that buzz like wounded flies.

My only anchor is your voice
Tying me to the universe
With you it seems i have no choice
But to succumb to this wicked curse.

This fear withers my state of mind
Leaves me paralyzed with wonder
Until I'm left with no hope to find
And all my dreams are torn asunder.

I love the way your touch makes me tremble
Excites the atoms under my skin
I'm shattered, but you reassemble
The pieces of me that I'm living in.

You're my armor, my stability
The guard that keeps my demons at bay
Only you have the ability
To make every problem go away.

A yellow brick road glistens before me
A sign dubbed “Straight is the best way to go”
Even though an ominous aura flows

My inner voice screams
“Chaos will erupt if you walk further”
But my body moves independently
Down the sunny-patched pavement

The bright yellow shade grays
The unbowed path jerks far left
Away from the right destination

The map displays a straight yellow line
Heading directly to the city of great prospects
The mapped road looks as secure as the Great Wall
Running at ease without obstructions

Yet in reality
I ventured into the Desert of Disasters
The powdered sand deadening my progress

The volatile sandstorms
Stalls my venture
And conceals the route
Of the yellow brick road

Little water left
The path nowhere in sight
Only minuscule hope and perpetual effort
Can reveal the true path to salvation

No sleep leaves
Him sleep deprived,
He hides beneath
His drooping eyes,
And comes home to dwell
Within the silence of the night.

Before spreading across the bed,
He places his patched jacket
Above the ground, on a hook,
To hang, suspended for the flipside.
A glance at the clock tells him it’s three,
Plus a quarter turn to the right.

It’s always before dreams, it seems,
That he feels the need to pull
Out pen and paper, to write.
Very soon, he knows,
It will be bright.
And lights will shine in,
To wake him up, again.

Sometimes, though,
He likes to pretend,
That there isn’t an end,
To this nocturne world.

So while he…
His, mind dances along the moon,
With a little more wandering,
His thoughts seem in tune,

To a jazzy
Twilight atmosphere,
And he hears -
The quiet orchestra
Of his thoughts,
Amidst the dark.

For a short time,
He’s moaning with Mingus, absorbing Etta.
At last, his sleep has come along,
As he dips into the Milky Way
Until his thoughts are gone.

Believing what they told her. Fat. Stupid. Slow. Being what they expected her to be. Just to escape the torment. Resorting to the sidekick position. The helpless follower. Never equal. Always to slow to be worth it. The fat kid in gym. The last one to finish the math problem. Blamed on dyslexia on big bones. Then it happened like a caterpillar her shape morphed became something that might be desireable. But by then her wings were riddled with the holes from past abuse. There was no confidence only anger and defensiveness on her horizon. In an attempt to salvage what was left of her she flew away to a place she thought was beautiful. A place she could start new, fresh. A place where she could hide the holes. But in the end winter came freezing her keeping her from moving while she was attacked over and over by new beasts who tore the holes open and gradually made them into bottomless pools of sorrow... When summer came she rested and patched over the holes to try again somewhere new... How does the story end? Thats up to you.

Divorce is not
A bomb or a wrecking ball

It is before that, and warmer:

The midst of the storm, the midst
Of the war
The poorly patched walls
In silence where we stand
Distanced, avoiding contact

The midst of the growing fire
Where we reluctantly and with shame
At having given up after
So much

We are not trying to melt the ice

Why now
when I'm totally okay.
Why now
when I totally moved on.
Why now
when I'm finally happy with someone else.

Why now?
Why now when I already thought
I can go on without you?
Why now
when my feelings are already been patched?

Why now?
when you left me hanging so bad that it hurts like hell.
Why now when I don't know how to trust anymore?
Why are you coming back?
Why are you confusing me?
Why now? Why?

Are you that sadist to hurt me again and again?
Why now
and I can't help but to wish again
that its all true?
that you wouldn't hurt me again?

How can i possibly do all those thing
when i'm still broken inside
after all this time?

What about him?
the one who makes me happy,
the one who shows me that life is beautiful
after the pain?

Why now?

Life is nothing more than a word
If we matter, let our voices be heard
Born only to die
Passing away like clouds in the sky
It's something that happens everyday
I think that it's time we all get our say
Life is unfair to us all
Built up only to fall
Life is a *****
I'm waiting every minute to become a body in the ditch
I want to die
I will never say goodbye
To the ones I love
To the ones I hate
Released like a dove
Is this what you call fate?
I am ready to become a memory
Nothing more than another stupid story
Gone like the sun in the sky
Born again, once we die
To everyone else I am an insect
Too small to notice while they do drugs and have ***
Maybe life is nothing more than a dream
Our lives are patched, can you see the seem?
Soon it will all be over
Soon it will all be gone
Loved like a brother
Your only one
As we sit in the darkness, silence filling our minds
We suddenly realize, as the sun begins to shine
Our love was nothing, now it's gone
Our love is nothing, while it lasted, it was fun
Love is useless
Unneeded by most
We don't need this
Our love is a ghost
Undead, like you and I
Give it up, I'm done with this lie
A shudder fills my skin
When I think of you and him
The future looks so thin
Together you are the perfect sin
You and I, that's the way it should have been
This is the end of the show, as the lights start to dim
Did our love mean nothing?
Was it all a game?
To you, did I mean anything?
When you put me to shame?
I spend my nights alone, in the dark
I sit here wondering, writing poems about my broken heart
While you have moved on
I feel I am nothing. I am already gone.

Wounded fragments of shattered dreams stain the pavement and sidewalks while we all move in a pattern unknown and unseen.
Poised perfectly in the sky are the ends of strings that pull us along, and we follow, apathetic to the vile disgrace of not being in control.
The sun neither rises nor falls, we circle around to have him stare at us with curious and diminished eyes.
The stars wink and shine like diamonds in a fog, long after their reign has ended and their souls have departed.

Half forgotten synapses and faded photographs are the pinpoint of realization in the half written tragedy and comedy of man.

Can we feel the shattered slice into our feet? Do we drink of the cup of color or our we drowning ourselves in a cesspool of grey?
Frayed and patched we are.
The wolf is ignorant while the sparrow is enlightened. They chase each other. Dream by dream, thought by thought, reaction by action, into the depths of our souls. Neither can triumph over the other and perhaps that is the design. Blueprints hidden carefully by an architect far beyond comprehension of morality and sustenance are the makings of an encore, a time for roses after the curtain falls.
For none can know the beauty and mystery behind the short circuit of synapse and the ceasing of beats.
Perception of dimensions beyond us our limited and jaded, causing lies disguised as truth. Fear of the mystery causes fear of us all. We are all that is here. We are the tourniquet and we are the axe.

Oh child of wonder… Oh traveler of distance. See us all.

We are two sides of a spinning coin. We are everything and we are nothing. Perhaps the strings will be cut. We will overcome the misfortune of breathing in that which is farthest from the truth. Be the crack in the pattern. Be the narrow path.

Be better than us.

Watch me pick pieces
Cardiac geometry
Repair rut you ripped

No, you cannot heal
if healing means leaving me here
alone. I won't allow it.

Stay close to me, hold
chaos's hand. Tie your ship
to mine and
we'll both
go down
together.

No, please don't heal, don't
get better if better means
away from me. Don't do it,
you should stay
and play with
my fire.

I started to heal once,
rehab for ghost hearts and
fragile bones, I patched myself up
with forgiveness and rope.

It came lose over time and the knots
were all frayed and life
undid the healing
I worked so hard for.
Time opens
all wounds.

So it's better to not try,
accept there is no bandaid that will fix you, you like
your broken parts and
grinding gears, you can't be
held together with sutures
or forgiveness or rope.

Don't heal.
Don't leave me here, broken.
Don't fall in love
as I'm walking away.

when do street lights
in ghost towns decide to flicker
until it recognizes its lack of purpose?
glistening gallows
bountiful burlesque
a kind of love that grabs the hand
that looks the most familiar
on days when the sun
glistens on skin that isn’t
patched against yours.
profanity becomes a prisoner
in your rib cage.
decaying but alive,
like ghosts that draw breath.
blindly fumbling
hungry greedy mouth
with eager needy hands
a strange audacity—
a smirk on the corner of your lips
veiling the corruption
between your teeth
i’ve made a habit of making my
tongue bleed
but that’s never going to come close
to the blood drawn
from your grenade-ricochets.
detonate my pulse
in all the ways you had ever
intended.
punic faith.
lungs brimming with fib.
stern and destructive.

how would one know
what to do with all this hurt?

It still hangs above the kitchen table
   Torn down the center and patched with a single strip of of duct tape
His skin painted white
   His eyes blue and bloodshot
His lips glossed with the color of blood from a fresh wound
  
   *He sits
unable to speak
   unable to tell of all he's seen
unable to share his knowledge with the clueless
   unable to warn them

He silently hangs on the faded yellow wall
   torn and damaged
faded and discolored
  discolored with splatters of this
or sprays of that
  
*no one knows but him
and there he will always be
   on the wall
above the kitchen table
   silent and watching

Self satisfied hipster ******
immaculately disheveled
crawl up anarchy patched
and retro fitted
from every bagel shmear
coffee house hell hole.
I hope this whole district gets fire bombed
leaving only the book store
so I can sit here in peace.

I entrust my patched heart to you,
from what you've shown I know it's fine.
I only take what's deemed as true,
your eyes gleam when you look in mine.
I asked myself if it could be,
to see another in the stars.
******* cast me out to sea,
but you began to heal those scars.
Your past pain mirrors mine so well,
you trust me even more than he.
And I won't be afraid to tell
I'm better then he'll ever be.
Someday soon starts a new way on
paved with our smiles and laughter.
Hesitation is all but gone,
Our happily ever after.
(Psyche).

I wrote my way out of the dark pages of my life.
I know what it's like to see your life hanging by a thread;
scraping your skin with your fingernails to stop yourself from crying;
weaving scars on your skin to get some high out of life.

Smiling on the outside, but tearing up on the inside.
I've been there,
disguising last rites as declarations of love;
holding out for that one guy for some unjust reason.
I was once told I was beautiful on the inside,
I used to scoff at that thought.
I couldn't be beautiful,
my metaphorical skin was sewed and patched, ruined and defiled
and there was nothing beautiful about that.
It took me a while to see that beauty for myself.
I was once that one girl sitting in corner at midnight
contemplating suicide over family tiffs, unrequited love, loss, loneliness, and every other
stuff that I couldn't deal with.
I can't look at my left wrist
without feeling some sort of disgust because of the tallies of pain
I left behind.

I had this habit of saying 'I'm always good' whenever asked
but I got tired of seeing illusions as reality,
I was tired of escaping my own life. I was not okay and I needed help.

I wish somebody had told me
this sooner:

MELANCHOLY IS NOT TRENDY, DEPRESSION IS NOT COOL,
CUTTING IS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT
SADNESS IS NOT ATTRACTIVE

It's actually sad that we,
teenagers,
advertise sadness as if it's something to be proud of.  

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL
YOU DON'T NEED VALIDATION FROM PEOPLE
DON'T LET HIM TELL YOU HE LIKES YOU BETTER WHEN YOU'RE BROKEN.
NO, SCARS DO NOT MAKE YOU ATTRACTIVE
SOME SCARS AREN'T WORTH HAVING
CRAZY IS NOT ****
**** IS NOT ALWAYS ****** SHEDDING A FEW KILOS WON'T MAKE HIM LIKE YOU ANY MORE THAN HE DOES
UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS DON'T HEAL --words I wish I'd  heard sooner

You are not broken beyond repair

YOU ARE A PHOENIX,
A PHOENIX MUST BURN TO EMERGE.

Some prose poems patched in his hands
Suddenly then, ecstasy or hypnosis faces him!
As he was reading, bathing in scents of cedar
She stands before him, disrobed, Phaedra-like and solemn!

He mouthed those lines while blossomed within him
A garden of secrets, rustling beeches
The mused muse came to visit him when
Every morning he read on, gold upon her head

He never put the velvety book down
The air heavy with laughter, desires, and rhymes
The Western wind gently rocked them as they held
Each other…Yet as the last poem echoed, she adamantly fled!

Translated on April 17, 2019
Nancy, France

I patched the sails with paper bags, and headed on my quest. Searching for a new tomorrow, I laid my past to rest.

Blessed pennies in my pocket, and holy water strapped to my belt. I shattered all that held me back, the curse I've always felt.

Tattered ropes hold me together, I've got this map that's made of dreams. With ruin all around me, moving on is best it seems.

I'm going but not forever, as I start along the way. Taking bits of memories, that will never fade away.

every man has his island,
his hiding places projected out loud
with blood power,
vernacular dreams &
ventriloquist voices.
among other things, madness -
an optical illusion
what you see is what you are
or seeing is believing
insideman and outsidemen
undifferentiated
the room has one view
on patched windows
indesire cutting deserted canyons
for the self-acclaimed King
(indesire wants nothing but to be,
to make room for islands in reality)

“be good, otherwise Haruka will come
to take you away, my child”
(what’s in a name
Haruka is “from far away”)
but children very rarely draw lines
caught in the furious chaotic circles of the world
now that every action has a reaction
reality principle is just a skin
holding the inside out & the outside in.

everyman has his island
of vexed fantasies
look into your eyes from outside in
before you see that fire
or anything else,
see this
-the beautiful war-