I watched a movie the other night and a scene reminded me of you ;
There was a lonely sailor on a fluke
That had a lantern on its far end.
The fluke was delving into a heavy night.
The mist veiled the sailor
Till he looked pious enough
To have the faith to fight the sea.
It reminded me of you,
Because when I observed you fading away
It was like observing parts of me
Sailing the same fluke I saw,
Leaving a fiery trail behind
So when I go back in memory
I could remember that those parts were once there.
They were parts of me,
Before the touch of his hand-
Caressing the bumps on your neck
Suffocated,
Till all you can breathe
Filled only the volume of his grip.
Before your glances became stares-
The myth says,
If you look medusa in the eyes
You will turn into stone
And so you did.
I watched him killing you
Slowly,
Dying,
Blacking out…


I extracted pieces of you from my veins;
It took me a while
To clean them
From tight corners in my vertebrate,
But you were doing the same;
You pegged two hooks
Onto your heart,
Attached to a rope that he pulled hard
Only to make sure
That every piece of me vanquishes.
But in the process you lost yourself
And so did I.
Every time I look at you
I try to scan for left overs of my past-
Instead I find his finger prints.
And every time I hear your voice
I think about the songs
That we never sang
But it would’ve been awesome if we did.


I met a sailor the other day
He was and old frail version of me
With tired eyes
That grew land marks on the way,
With a  wrinkled face
Like dry land with no signs of water;
On his chest I saw two scars
That bend like a tiger’s claw
And curves like 2 poorly implanted hooks.
I asked him where have you been.
He answered,
“a true sailor always finds his way back home”

Yearning to say those words,
But not daring to enter those lingual waters.
Being entranced by the soft touch of
Lips to her own
Makes the once fear
Of expressing what is wanted
Vanish.

Except for these few words
Which remain trapped
Behind a closed jaw
And fingers which refuse to type.

The girl filled with stories
Becomes timid.
The girl who speaks of finding something real
Stops in the tracks of these words.
All in the name of losing.

Losing what she thinks is real.
Losing because of the release of what she has concealed.
Losing the thing she vanquishes sleep over.
Losing her realistic shot at happiness.
Losing the muse that sheds light
On her old soul.

Her soul is restless and dark,
Or so it seemed.
A hazy veil is lifted after years of cloaking
The true potential of an individual
That no one truly knew.

This unexpected unmasking
Came as a jolt,
Something electrifying.
It revived the girl's heart.

But still,
The girl sits waiting for a time
To unfasten her jaw and stretch her fingers
To reveal those words

Those horribly whimsical words.

When I wrote about love the pages of my notebook would turn purple and blue

A mixture of tears and ink stains, smudged words about how ex-lovers caused my core to rot like an apple decomposing in a pile of compost.

That’s how I felt.

Buried beneath the dirt, stuck in the ground being eaten away by the past.

Because whenever I loved, and I mean truly loved I couldn’t see the ugly truth from the lens of my rose-tinted glasses.

It’s funny how one smile can leave you so blinded.

The rush, the thrill, chasing your crush, the desire to be wanted, you don’t realise it can lead to so much hurt.

But you learn.

There is heartbreak which I think we all know, or all will know.

I didn’t know that people could pluck you out of the crowd because you remind them of that one person who broke them so they use you as a substitute, though you’re not quite the original

Or being a **** toy, a human doll, there for display but never to be heard,

Maybe you got shot with constant insults because apparently that’s how some people flirt and compassion doesn’t clench your partner's thirst anymore.

When you look at it from afar the romance seems so pure, a Hollywood blockbuster next best seller, featuring Hugh Grant.

Then you take a closer look, you see the forced smiles, you hear the sighs and you notice the tears clouding in their eyes.

You try and hit rewind because you know there are good parts but your remotes broken and keep's jumping to the scenes that scarred you deep inside.

Can love ever be beautiful if all you’ve known is a heavy heart weighed down by the ghosts who lie locked away in your old diaries?

Nothing is ever going to be perfect but that doesn’t mean it has to leave you covered in scratches.

The damage doesn’t fade you just become used to it, however, all my damage gave me knowledge
I now know how demons play you

And that I refuse to let them beat me next time they feel like a game

I never even lost to them, they just convinced me they had won, grabbed the trophies and walked away

But I now know what I want love to be for me and what love should be

Those in my memories, the ones who broke me

Walk upon this Earth like a plague, gathering up souls in the palms of their hand

Feasting on the pain of others for their own personal gain

A twisted hunt, a search for power

Words will spread like wildfire and we will all know to sprinkle a salt around us next time these demons dare get close

Their time is over.

Because I also know what it is to love someone who is human

Who gives me that same sensation that I feel when reading inside beneath a pile of blankets whilst rain lightly dances and taps upon the window glass

That rush of comfort you get when you fall into your bed after a long day and can finally rest

When you’re with a group of friend and can’t stop laughing over the dumbest things, tears roll down your cheeks but they’re tears hand sewn by happiness

Or that random night out where you end up on the most spontaneous adventure and just lose yourself in the moment of surprise and when you think back to that day, you know that it is these moments that keep you alive.

And when these sensations, the comfort and glorious moments come to an end, the pain isn’t ugly, it’s more of an ache, to go back to these times and re-live these times all over again.

And you know you can seek them out and relive them, just maybe with a different coloured blanket, a new mattress, a new group of friends.

But the same feelings are all still there, and though your heart has stitches deep within it, it is this type of love that vanquishes the demons and helps you mend.

...drip drip drip drip
The rain is a blanket of sound, a theme song that empties my now, vanquishes me to dreams of two bodies entwined moving to the rhyme of hearts that beat until the melody synchronises to the tune of the rain drips...
...frequent and irregular...
...gasping, he lifts me up body and soul, to demonstrate he can handle me, and my crazy thoughts. I open up, abandon my reservations, then curl my limbs around him, till our souls be only separated by our skin. stretching our all to each other like rain drops do on window panes, willing themselves to reach that next droplet and then running the rest of eternity together...
...happily there after...
...which we all know its facing the world everyday as a unit. having bad days, but working through that pain Finding new heights of excitement and doing old things you like to do again. even when the rain comes and goes, I can always dance to the memory of us
drip drip drip drip...

Nothing leaves a footprint
like a memory burned
Deep into the consciousness
of those unlearned

Nothing grows more deadly
than the force of will
It powers every weapon
it vanquishes with skill

Nothing braves tomorrow
like a wish on fire
Its light forever’s beacon
to each soul aspired

Nothing is more final
than a dying breath
Words exiting their prison
—eternity’s rosette


(Dreamsleep: October, 2022)

Neither left wing nor right
conservative or liberal,
he goes about his day

Living outside the parameters
of deception,
hell in heavens way

While living as dead
he vanquishes time,
each moment present now

Defying your judgment
refusing to choose
—all limits disavowed

(Dreamsleep: August, 2019)