the air of the chimney – whips
mocking tales of fairy endings
creations of the devil
tempting us all
to one more day
of wishes, suffering, happiness
Like a ghost at my bed three a.m.
haunts the spot my heart used to be.
In a room that echoes vacant night time
chats, I think of eternity in purgatory.
Locked in a rhymeless room with no view,
no paintings, no sheets, no floor, no air –
only a roof and four walls, screaming perpetually –
no one can hear
I suffer through a time without an end.
In the early hours of night you walked in my room,
rope in hand, ‘ready’, you said, ‘gonna finish the job
thirteen years living as though you are dead’ he said.
Everything I never felt, all at once, an orgasm of pain
every nerve exploded in a micro vision of the pain
you caused, the years you stole, the heart you stopped.
Problems faded away at your death bed,
all I could remember was, for better or worse,
you joked, I’m here for the better,
I laughed, not knowing worse would be a frequenter.
I’m tired now, but promises from the start
remind us both – till death do we part,
suspicions aside, there is no denying
longevity is fated with an end in everything
if there has been no ending, it is in fact,
A dull ache took over the world
one fated day in May.
Flowers struggled to maintain
a simple bloom – that day.
Purveyors of love, were simultaneously
interested and bored.
What a sad day,
that fated day in May.
When the aroma of the spring
matched the stench my heart.
On the blooming daffodils of April,
rain chaotically falls,
each drop, hesitantly anticipated
like the breath of a dying man,
failing hearts identify,
with the disorganization of spring,
a summer that understands sun,
a chat with one’s forsaken father ,
a permanent autumn,
a memory of childhood dreams,
a winter that only snows for show,
a future without impending death.
An agreement made,
rooted in time,
no promises, no regrets,
each chapter silently unfolded
a scene that deleted
a piece of me.
I evolved from all the re-writes
into a breathless, nameless shape
unprepared to exchange me,
Spiraling in doubt, about what I owe –
it was I that paid the price
of mornings with no hope
left only with regrets
that the final goodbye
was no more beautiful
than the first hello
when I was complete.
Photo from: https://www.facebook.com/BelladonnaLoves
Hiding, all that is brutal and strange, inside of me, to
other’s eyes I have no nightmares. In my eyes
I am the nightmare, insecure and scared, I scale the
to endure emotional paralysis, in my nine to five
where I have chiseled myself in to something recognizable
for society, the depths of my heart cannot be distinguished
in my daylight replica
because my soul has drifted somewhere else, a place
where I cannot see me, but everything else is clear,
there is no fear, no grief, no sorrow, no anguish only
benevolence in the black of night.