Paper Skin

it is a fractured version of
fortitude that floats
to the surface;
neither bound nor held —
but ever straining
against the tides

my thoughts form pale flowers
born too soon —
not fated to survive
the cold Sun of March

one moment too long
is all it takes —
and then

you are gone.



a thin, red line hides |in|sanity —
just to paper-cut those strands of hope
when you stray too far.

never will you notice
the sharp sting of heartbreak
when you are used to the shards

& the echo of your footsteps
will not seem less hollow
on this side of the story.

– cavity –

Love (un-twined)

Total eclipse;
where lovers once embraced
darkness lingers;
ashes of vivid flames
still hot on soul’s naked surface

Ruin rages
bitterness gags reason,
passion turns on itself, reveals sharp fangs
stirred by dire injury,
sets out
to cripple,
to maim

Undying love
they swore, voices steady;
once treasured memories
turned to gaping wounds;
tears dry
on hollow cheeks;
agony drips venom
on dull-edged hearts

Consciousness takes hold;
long, sleepless nights reveal
of a battle fought
with teeth and nails;
anger fades
and fades
and fades…
with each day
comes an easier breath

Endings are never easy;
and if feelings were true,
under the watchful eye
of the hourglass
turns to hurt
turns to hate
turns to heartache
turns to indifference
turns to truce.

Over at dVerse Poets’ Pub, ManicDdaily has us writing about armistice/truce. This is what I came up with. Come join us at the bar!

photo credits:

Long Road To Deliverance

anger turns to sickness,
body feels its weight
but forgiveness… still a million miles away.
i am torn
between peace and chaos
rage tethered to my back
feet stuck
in rapid-hardening cement
while i try
to drag myself
towards relief…
and peace of mind.

it is never easy
to break free
and leave darkness behind.

Slavery, decapitated.

under the torn and dirty nails
of immortal’s hand –
splinters dig deep,
tear long gashes
into the blinded’s bloody eye
while pus and tears
make a paste
on soot-stained bodies.

when squirming
and crawling
isn’t sufficient,
it is time
to wake
the warrior within.

Empathy’s ugly Face

some say
i have
a certain way
to touch
the ones i meet.
empathic, they call it –
and say it with a smile.

for me
it has been
a curse –
encountered each day.

to be able
to touch
means to understand,
to open myself –
and once i do,
are easily obtained.

i never learnt
to be careful enough.
i hope i will…
the first step
is to be

A Smurfy Tale

I am pissed at someone.
royally pissed. (so pissed, that I will even use capital I’s for this post.)

since this is my cave, I decided to spray paint the walls black and red for a little while… because I really need to blow off some steam.

let’s call this person The Smurf.

the smurf and I went roller skating… for about 3 years. It was great in the beginning – and I mean GREAT… you can’t imagine how much fun we had.

Then came the time where the smurf faced a really steep hill – one, the smurf had no option but to go down. I made sure the smurf didn’t fall too hard, took care of the smurf’s boo boo’s, applied more than enough band-aids for a lifetime and basically tried everything to keep the smurf off the concrete. it was fine. it was a pleasure for me to take care of the smurf – because I always thought that the smurf would do the same for me. the smurf did in the beginning… and i was happy.
the hill really was steep, but the smurf mastered it – bravely.
the smurf stayed off the ground.

recently, I had to discover that the smurf also looking out for me wasn’t true… not anymore. I got unstable, took a tumble and fell right on my butt, while the smurf stood idly by… not offering a hand, not even a word. while I had a fresh wound that needed patching up, the smurf was still too busy licking his old wounds and wallowing in the pain they caused.
I do know that some of the wounds the smurf suffered needed stitching and they still need time to heal… but I honestly have no idea how the smurf got so self-centred… and now ignores – and insults – the ones who care about the smurf, whom the smurf once deeply cared about.

sadly, the once so wonderful, caring and friendly smurf now looks like this:

and I am simply sick and tired of looking like this:

I can only hope the smurf will come back around, because underneath, the smurf is beautiful. until then, I will stay away… and let the smurf be grouchy.

if the smurf never comes back… well, so be it. nothing I can – and want to – do about it.
rant over.

now, back to whitewashing my cave’s walls… maybe not white yet, but a brighter shade than black and red… until the storm clouds pass.

i will go now and tape my scowl away… hope i can find tape strong enough for that.

photo credits: internet