i try with every
held-in breaths
fucking hell, i would kiss you 'til you
suffocate just to prove
how much -

i just can't say what i 

you know what i feel

why do you ask?

it's hurting me as much as it's 
hurting you
I know it's hurting you

but i prefer finding other ways to 
show you how much i -

every word you say to me
i eat up with hunger
you make me feel beautiful
when he
had made me ugly
you make me

until you ask me the questions
and i feel

fucking hideous

i try to say just how much
how much i love -

i love you?

Like Lightning

how do you do it?

tell me, please,
i really would like to know how you
play your games, dirty

games - you are so juvenile.

how do you
make people believe that you are
as pure as
a son of god, how do you
win people over to
your side of the story
when really,
there never are sides,
just the false and the
which you
obviously are not; how do you
make yourself believe you are
so much better? how do you
think you can just
get what you
want -
you're not everything

well, not to me anyway.


not anymore.

how do you do it, make every truth seem like lies
just so you laugh when 
others cry.

man, you're cruel.

Living in Boxes

I have seen your face
a thousand times in backgrounds of
my photos with him; them photos i now hide in secret boxes and
bury beneath forgotten clothes.

I never knew you had
such a smile, for I never
took pictures with you - maybe I should start,
for you seem to have so many
of mine.

I know you from somewhere special,
it's a place I go to when I dream of
feeling like nothing went wrong,
but I never really dared to dream again after
my heart tore into pretty little pieces that
fell into your hands, somehow; now.

And I don't really remember how to
take someone's hand,
but if you promise the patience,
you could teach me.

You touch me with an odd familiarity. Well,
why not, you know my flaws.

Every trace of your fingertip means so much more
than when I
absentmindedly play with your hair only to
pull back for I remember
not to open up
for I am scared - to be quite frank.

He had hurt me in ways that I 
don't want you to, please. I know I ask 
a lot, but
he had given me too little.

I sometimes wish to be
those wrapping papers of
birthday gifts
that never end up in bins.

Can you promise to unwrap me
delicately or will you just
rip me open and throw me away

like he did?

in my room

I dig into boxes 
with your pictures, where diaries
can hide you away from me. I find torn, tear-stained pages
where I realized your lacking
presence, but I know you were never a mirage
for there was a time when you were there, there in print with me
and the memories make me weep for 
missing your laughter.

But it feels good weeping, because I can deafen out the
empty echoes beneath my chest.

I fall asleep listening to songs that
remind me of you just so I can
hear you drift away from my conscience
knowing very well
you don't for you are still
the first bloody thing
in me
when I wake up.

I don't expect that
you will ever leave me alone,
though you have long gone
and I hate you for this. Because I loved
the tenhundredthousandmillion ways you made me feel


i see you your eyeballs stripping me down i see you smiling over iced tea i see you with me with me be with me i see you in nightmares i see your name everywhere everywhere bloody everywhere i hear your laughter i hear you tease my mistakes i hear you whisper but you're not here i hear our favourite song i feel hands on my waist you're driving me insane insane you're calling out to me i hear's in my sleep fights that never meant a thing to me i see you wink at me i see your head on my lap i feel your hair between my fingers i can hear your heartbeat thumping everyfuckingnight i dream i dream i scream i want to let you go my heart oh my heart i see you walk away i make up excuses for you i see you step on me i hear you call me names i see you walk away away away i see us holding hands i smell the hoodie you wear i smell your sweaty neck i feel your arms around me i feel you here here there everywhere i feel fingers lingering on mine i remember your lips and ice cream parlors i see messages until morning hours i feel your breath collide with mine why why why do i smell cigarette smoke i smell you you your clothes skin body i hear your voice everywhere everywhere bloody everywhere you're suffocating me i was happy i was happy i was so god damn bloody happy i can't breath breath breath you're suffocating me now but where WERE you?!

use me

he painted me beautiful but
priced me low
so i spend everyday ever since
questioning every mirror i break.

he twirls me to an end
of our dance
and lets go of my hand
just when i feel we fit

playing games with me as i
dangle over a cliff of
my broken memories, he is
letting go of the rope
now pulling through my heartstrings
holding on every now and then just to
hear me cry
"help me, please"

; I would speak but my lips are
sewn together with words of flattery and
stains of yesterkisses.


and from afar they watch us
like a puppeteer destroying
ugly, used, cheap toys.


you mutter every thousand empty words,
it is like when we
coil beneath white sheets
and blend together until i breathe
your breath and you
hold me so close i 
can see ripples on your back
and i feel your muscles scream.

we ripped open and
tumbled over books with torn pages,
you read me like a thousand
stories with no endings
just like we were at a top of a hill
and we jumped before
falling into each other's calamities.

a thousand melodies you 
sing to me
like those passionate kisses in
blacked out rooms where
everything was youyouyou
and your weight against me was
nothing for we
defied gravity

a thousand stares we passed
under highways and behind cars, we
started slowing down
too fast
like a train reaching the final stop
and passengers are still asleep

and now i can't even say
a thousand things about you
for i want to forget your name after

a thousand times you tried to hide
a thousand reasons you
left unsaid.

- now, i hide.


They are the morning coffees keeping me awake,
the silent glances across the table.

They are the wishes on birthday cakes
that almost came true,
your almond shaped eyes
in my mind.

They are stirred-in chocolate powder,
the "I wish I could've"s.

They are the notes left on pillows,
the never made beds.

They are the car keys in the rubbish bins
and scattered photographs.

They are the dresses hanging in the cupboard,
the bleeding mascara.

They are the words hanging from telephone lines.

They are the figures in a hospital,
the sunday morning news.

They are deliberate missed calls
left to infuriate,
the messages left without intentions.

They are the songs written beside empty bottles
on explicit truth.

They are the petals on a kitchen floor,
the knife tumbling to the sink.

They are the breaths minimizing,
an unhealing wound.
They are the dreams gone bad and

everything is real.

treasure hunt

She covered her eyelids
waiting on
predicted surprises
with inaccurate judgments;
she is waiting for
an empty hand without - 

A book of prayers on her lap yet
she never flips a page.
It is a consolation prize yet
she doesn't feel any better.

She fell asleep
writing her thoughts down, her last
thought was a 
dot of complexity; inability
to speak and
she taps her eyelids
liking the invisible 
she feels on her eyeball,
counting down the seconds until
another day.

Except it is a special day,
though she
doesn't really know 

Because brave people don't

I take the world and balance it on my
spinning it around like I usually would with
spherical things;
I try to make myself dizzy.
But I am
a non-existent
on maps therefore
no one can find me
and I find no one.

And sometimes
forget that I, too,
can feel and it
hurts when I hit the ground.


I look for time portals,
only to stand in front of
that same old clock;
I realize the only wish that
ever comes true is
when you wish
life away

every second a blink.
& standing still I can
sense life getting bored
of my routines - 
nothing short of unoriginal but
how far can life escape
copy-paste if
six billion other people are breathing
the same way as me?

I hold in me
a cup of tea 
because everything else outside of me is
not my taste.
And I feel like I am an outline of
shadows you wish you
didn't see
when you're alone,
and the moon's gone to 
seek a better person

to shine on.


i stand one foot in front of the other
on a straight line
- dashed
with my arms spread out like an
imaginary flight
in the middle of an empty road
before the green light.

and the waiting silence whispers secrets that
seep beneath the lengths of my hair
tickling my nose,

i pause for a moment in my life and record
a song of illusions in my head
where the rumble beneath my feet coalesce with
the wind forcing me backwards
like a hand twirling me for an
involuntary dance;
and it's moments like these where
i dare to resist.

i leap forward, messing up the scenery
that stood expectant,
and suddenly it is noisy and the gravel beneath me is
accentuated by
dotted lights,
i neglect the dull thump of my sole
hitting reality, for i much prefer the
colossal chorus of
the angry engines now spelling out
my danger as they
swiftly graze my fingertips,

i now wait for the red light
but then again, what if
i might not be there by then?

the minor fall the major lift

& there he lay with 
words hanging half blurted
out of his, twisted mouth,
there he broke his bones and
left his eyes open to 
outstare the sky
but he is blind.

there, his kneecap is
jutting out, peeking out to a 
world it never saw, except maybe when
he was 3 and fell off the couch
and the horns are intimidating but
he does not budge.

there his intelligence - however little -
spills across the pavement now soaked in a
murky crimson bath;
he must've been in a rush.
there, beneath his chest
his heart crushed still
and i wonder if it is
smaller than he made it seem on
countless occasions.

there he lay, in a position
once deemed normal, of which his neck
tilted slightly when he
pretended to be honest, except the tilt now
is an uncomfortable
& his situation for once is
not an excuse

and this is the end for him
an ugly one but i smile

a bus stop, he said,
and it's over between us,
too literal were his words, perhaps,
i laugh in accidental mockery at his
disjointed sight,
and am labelled cruel by the 
but i don't care for there he lay
and this is the end of

my heartache.

tragic, really

it's all these things i want to say to you
i can count by my fingertips
right, left and
back to the right
more than ten fucking reasons 
that don't make sense
you rot
you rot
you're fucking rotten

countlessly i'd like to say
thank you for
waking me up to who 
you really are
i couldn't stop loving you
until now
this second
this day
for you are the eye illusionist;
you carve hurt in our hearts 
only to
reflect it upon yourself
just to say
the blame is on us

since the day you sinned
the blame's on us
sick selfish scum
i can't even speak right with
the frustration clogging my

self-pity - it's all you.
i could laugh to the way you
mess your own mind up with
false accusations and
sorry stories about
how we hate you

when really
'hate' never was a word in the book
nor was 'end'

the spotlight shines forever
on you
and we are the cause to your pain?
what about our pain?

it's not us who never apologised
it's not us who forgot love, no 
it's not us who never said 'hi'
- you were the one who walked away

without any reason
every fucking thing you ran away from

but you can't fucking remember
for your thoughts are plagued with
new ways to drown yourself in
and friends who are not worth your time

labelling me cheaper than
the one cent under my foot
is more satisfaction
to me
for i know who wins
in this game

beat yourself up
for no one else will waste their time
doing it for you
- not anymore

the rush

the brakes are faulty
& i'm speeding up
I know my limits, I know my limits,
I'm not slowing down,
not for a second, no.

Like a drive down highway 
the smooth straights meet rough swerves that
catch me unaware...
I could see it, but didn't want to,
didn't want to feel it.

There's the crash, it comes
just when the
world goes mute -
& no one else can hear it;

where are the streetlights when we need them?

I have made myself
an expected visitor of
the silence that met me
after it all,

farewell, i bid,

living saturdays

crushing up papers with
names and
i love, i love, i love

white noises infiltrate every inch
of my body
i am trying to stay calm
for i'm lost, i'm lost, 

i'm bloody lost and
i sense a dead-end

infatuated with counting down every minute
expecting explosions 
for i feel hundreds inside my body
upon every breath i 
am falling, falling, i fall

a coloured candy frozen 
on my lips
i make myself
more than i am
i was
much better at this 

before, before, before

how is love and
any different if
they both find equal space between
you and i?

cave in with me
for i 
can't figure out
as i live on yesterdays
and i need somebody to
help me through it

humming happiness

and i believe the sounds i am making
words inside my head,
i am humming to an unfamiliar tune
to noone it relates - 

i am tapping to entwining thoughts
on railings of the balcony, slipping out
like an unknown language
to noone it relates -

they call it noise, my attempt to
get a little sense inside
my never ending worries of
what should and shouldn't be.

they tell me things
they believe they are
seeing what i see,
but their answers never
match to
what i am constantly repeating

they call it noise, my beliefs that
my mistakes could be amended
i am tapping to an unfamliar tune
i am singing life away

and to noone, it relates,
for i am the only one with
tears upon my face
humming happiness, please
for i feel empty.

twice the size

i tried
over and over
with repulsive comments and a strip of vein
falling out across my chest
across the truth

a cut i inflict; 
i spill myself but

everybody is blind.

i catch myself
counting seconds and
make-believing ten years have passed 
and i'm still
stuck in the same situation
same fucking place

i'm sure someone can hear me,
i can scream loud, but

everybody is deaf.

i am lying above a body
i used to have affections for;
still playing with the clump of
hair left on the skull
habits hard to crush, now, but
it is unrecognizable, now,

with organs twisted inside out
i see him for what he really is 
to me;

and i entwine my fingers to
charred skin
picturing how it used to be
months, days, seconds ago
before i 
did what i did
and i'm counting seconds again

three - at least we

two - can be together 

one . now.

one of those

her cryptonite heart 
and salivated secrets; she
spills over him like a
velvet blanket heavy with 
cold forsaken promises
he is strangled by fingertips 
painted bright red
inverted souls 
she spills over him like
a stuffed toy with empty eyes
his bed of roses and bleeding skin
opencloseopenclose scabs
neverending like his feelings
towards her
she spills over him like
the queen of broken hearts

his open eyes
bled to the ground at
the sight of her beauty

remember -

remember four shoes abandonned 
by the lake and ten fingers
intertwined, remember the
green, green grasses where
stars fell upon; where
endless nights were spent,
remember my striped t-shirt and your
torned jeans, remember
soaked bodies bound together to
keep warm, remember cigarette breath and
raspberry lips, where
word lingered on; where 
kisses were left stale the
next morning, remember promises
made in hugs, remember 
coloured balloons,
remember mp3 players and favourite songs, remember
dances in the wind, where time
could only tell; where we
were so many things, remember
touch and tingle, remember our
favourite games, where we sat and
laughed until our stomachs twisted
remember the park bench, two souls
one world, remember
rainbows and crossroads,
where we first -

eat me up

explicit content.

eat me up and
tear me into pieces
after pieces
after a million fucking pieces
shit, you
crush every single bone left in me
and while i can still feel
slurp up my bone marrow 
while i can still feel

slice me up into your
favourite shapes and sew my
broken pieces together like
a child's necklace
stick a barbecue stick through my body
vagina upwards to my brain
stand me up for display
your sacrificial piece of fucking meat

you know you're right

i'm always wrong
you prove me wrong


i feed you my words
in the shape of my
burnt black like charcoal
sending waves of 
unbearable stench we can call
but you love it all the same
suck it up,
lick me up like
dirt from your lips
eat me up
like i'm fucking poison

you know you're right

and i die instinctively - it is time -
self slaughter with a stab on my chest
for you
for you
on a plate i am
for you

fuck me up, eat it.


from sore lungs to
peeling skin; blood
i sit in a puddle of 

do you hear me - no, no
every word I say is
pain to your ears and you
shut me out

it is physical hurt, too.

the wall is
for my turn to crash
in a car without brakes
i am free falling

away from the world I don't love
well, goodbye to you, too

you threaten me with
knives on your wrist 
and I can feel about
ten on my chest

do I have a choice?

a tornado
crashing through my room
I am blind to material and
bruise myself - quite unintentionally - to make
the ache cease
- how?

Somehow, it works
it worked

I am



and i suffer
every ounce of sandbags you throw at me
with every word you mutter
utterly stupid
you count every tear i drop
and double the amount

what did you see in me?

i am not a fucking rag doll you can

but then again
i said it too late
too late
my body is battered
and i am
once and for all

watching you weigh every lie
and compliment yourself
i choke on glass you
stuff in my mouth
carving the outline on my lips
"they should be bigger"

you shave me from my beauty
and keep to yourself
a sick fetish
whereby you
sit across my twisted body
and break every bone 
left unbroken
like every promise
you ever made

moments like these

i like counting the times you blink
as you stare into the distance
-if not at me;
i fascinate myself with the way you breath and
share with me your inmost self 
when our lips interlock

unintentionally; you and me
we are 
so many things

i like to sneak into
every time i 
press my ear against your chest to
listen to your life beat against mine

for a moment, i am you and you are me

your fingers tracing lines
on my body
you caress me like a
soundless lullaby

my organs spill with rhythm and 
oh, lovely music 

sans toi,
i am hopelessly doubting
fearing every choice i make when i 
intertwine moments of mine with
because one day, it will all be gone

you surprise me with 
a hold of my hand to 
ease away the frown from my face

like to feel your eyes linger on me
when i look away

and with you,
i feel just fine

little things

it is amazing, the little things
the way our hands just
fall into place when they are held


breathing difficulties

suffocation like a thousand hurricanes
destroying my mind and sending foiled messages
my senses are incomplete
perturbed for i am nothing but
tiny pieces of debris after an earthquake

i screech and screech until my lungs are sore
but nobody listens
for i am stuck beneath an 
invisible pillow
and everything just bounces back to me

it hits straight to the middle
just a little bit to the left where
the ugly thing beats with no purpose
and i wonder everyfuckingtime
what the hell is worth it

i feel the stares before i see them
for they are beneath surface
peeping beneath skin
they judge before they know me

like a thousand burning sunsets
pushing onto my back 
i cannot breathe for there is too much spilling out of me
and to them
not a word makes sense

never again will wind sound like music
for i hear empty howls 
like mine and it's not beautiful

for i am suffocating on things not worth my time

and i just want to drop past my cloud of mistakes 
until i am
freefalling through the empty spaces
of a new start i will never get.

I'm Gay

Not a poem.

People say once you take one faulty step, the rest screw up.
People also say you can turn back to the beginning, but I say that's only if they 
let you.

I once took a faulty step, but everyone else did the screwing up. 
They judged.
They bloody judged when I tried to make my life a little more stable. I am always wrong, he is always right; we were saying the same things. I was unacceptable. Because I'm the odd one, & he's not. Because I'm gay and he's not, no, no, he's in some goddamn church exchanging rings in 
holy matrimony.
I am never allowed, and he is; though we're asking for the same things.
Like wanting to be a parent.

I want kids; I've always loved them. My cousins and friends, who've all managed to avoid the inconvenience of suddenly realizing they liked being fucked up the ass, all had children, and I used to play with them. Before.
Before everyone 'found me out'.
Before they knew me well enough, before Uncle Sammy has a chance of carrying a fatal disease & a twisted mind, so kids, stay away! Watch out, or Sam the GayAIDSvictim will come fuck your tiny little asses! Yeah... When I really needed people to believe in me for being myself... they made me feel like... an alien.

And that's why I want a child. I adore the way they make you feel good about yourself by drawing a picture for you and capture your attention by doing the littlest things... how they so easily depend and trust you. The way they have faith in you long after you've fallen, the way they always see you as 
you, and appreciate it.
They remind me of things I've forgotten... innocence, a mind so free of complications, hurt, trouble. 
I see the way people look at me when I took my little niece out. I liked it. Then I saw the way they looked at Martin & I. And I knew squeezing a child into the frame would be completely unimaginable.

Why? Just because I fuck guys and am one, too, I am uncapable of childcare? And those heterosexuals that're the parents of all those abandonned children in those HUNDREDS of orphanages - oh sure! - they're more capable than me, then?

I'm supposed to be selfish for wanting to care for a child already here rather than pay a random lady to bring another in this shithole? Why? Because you believe my children will suffer from the knowledge that they have two fathers and no mother? That's bullshit!

It is not about who does the parenting, but 
how you do it.

Yes, I'm gay. Yes, I go against an 'act of nature' for having two penises in the picture and no vagina. 
But let's think of those parents of the orphans. The 'act of nature' they did, did they even take any responsibility for it? No. They didn't.

I can't bring a kid into the world, obviously enough, but it doesn't mean I can't care for one that's already here. There's no harm for wanting to care for a child. 

I'm gay, yeah. I'll burn in hell, sure. I don't make love in the right way, supposedly. 
But that doesn't falter my capability to love.
Unlike those who made love and 
threw it away.


we are 
minorities of something colossal with
dropdead nervous sytems & alwaysfeelingunderpressureargh!
we are
not nothing
just time-halting storms
trying to see our laters a little clearer
and pretending we never
worry on our previous millionandtwentytwosteps
: i count.

i suffocate under
piles of
contemporary 'you must's
catching a breath at my own
'you can's
every now and then when
no one is watching

conflicts are enjoyable
just to the extend before
everyone takes it too seriously
and forget after-laughs
the ones i usually do
when i'm
alone in my head

the only one in the household but
one of the million of other
flippant-goodfornothing-dreamers like me.

we are
minorities of acceptable majority
unintentionally projecting ourselves
majorly unacceptable.

i am.schizophrenik

there was always a window but
never a view,
we were the wishes that
never came true and it is like
a tornado biting up my senses.

for every one count is
a hundred you's.

i tickle the spine of a lie
full of
neatly wrapped excuses
to ease my own guilt 
of self invented satisfactions of which only
i appreciate.

do you trust me, do you?
I ask a million questions to 
as i feed words of flattery
just because i want to hear them
& they don't come from you
for you doubt my everything

for you doubt everything.

take suicide

i confess on the many times i 
drop and tremble; the 4am behaviour when
i don't know who i am.
i confess with the things i say, knowing 
what goes around comes around but 
never caring -
until they did not
reach out when i 
cried out
for somebody.

i confess to what i wish 
i could've done but
never do - i never wanted a purpose;
too much.
i try a little indifference
but my whole world is
turning a different page

i am - liberated - 
               now, somehow.

i confess on lies i tell and deceitful actions.
my alter ego, the one i hate
but am

& the one percent i am -

i confess on sifted reasons &
i was cabaret when i should be slow waltz;
but nobody fucking told me i was doing it all wrong.
i confess on the hurt i inflicted on him
oh, him.
i confess i did love
but was
toodamnscared to accept it.

i confess on my fight against
myself and what's right,
always on a road
i never know the street name by
no dead ends to fucking tell me i took the wrong turn.

& now i confess i
give up

& now -


The bus trip

A comfy cake,
I munch on thoughts that slip 
in between the cracks and whirring of
smoky engines and raindrops on windows.

i see outside the small slit of closed curtains
all of life's expectations but none of mine
sadly; it was one beautiful sight.

i take time to procrastinate
those moments of which i realize
a million things in one thread of mind-topic,
a little daft, i presume I am; it takes
five years for me to capture who i really am
in the whole of my life.

i look back at the flailing roads rushing away
beneath me
and i make a judgement that perhaps
i'm not made for the past,
but for the future - now
singing along to my favourite song
clutching an mp3 and a
comfy cake
i munch on thoughts that 
wake me up

to know that
it's a one way ticket and i'm not coming back.

two and everything

he makes me fake a cough and
look away
mess up my hair, fix it - repeat;
it's an addictive indulgence, this
annoying habit of embarassed insecurity
overwhelmed heartbeats
as i relish in ways he can
send colossal currents flooding through 
my selfless body with just one slight touch
upon my skin

i am his mannequin, his play toy
; willing, though.

he whispers meaningless words but i melt
under his voice
& i could scratch a million blackboards,
deaf to it all as his breath still lingers.

i don't dare to question the 
credibility of this being love or
anything more or less
so i wait, ready to be
shown precisely what my heart is
fooling me around with.

& when he sings lullabies to me,

I don't know how he feels to have
my pupils locked and readjusted on him,
therefore - 
i wear my darkest shades to
hide the way i love his eyes on me
- my eyelashes a little too long to
hide what i don't intend to show

purposeful pauses to his questions
              to prolong the moments when he
follows the movements of my lips;
i am hopeless; a sybarite of 
                 his non-existent affections

with his hand on my head as i lay on
his lap...
this feeling 
will last - right?

the best songs

when i can sit by a lake
with a guitar in my hand
strumming along to
a favourite song i have
never heard before
but feel like i've known it
since before i was born
like a children's lullaby

when i can touch the stars
and recite the lyrics to
a song personal to me
with someone else unfamiliar
singing along
or humming 
to his own favourite tune

and i believe nothing else matters in the world

when i can see life bursting out from
the moonlight
my only source of sight
and my breath seems ten times louder
echoing every word i emote
from my lips
and every shadow a filiform dancer
moving swiftly to 
nothing really

when i can imagine things
i don't usually dare to 
in everyday life.
i forget what routine is because
being where i am,
i am free
my feelings amplified by
the wind that carries my melody
to the other side of the lake
where nothing expects more than 
just a lone girl
living her moment

and i believe nothing else matters in the world

for mine -

i give lollipops to children
in return for a couple of their teardrops;
for mine have gone dry
and i need time to shed
and i need time to release 

i count the number of laughter i hear
as i sit myself upon
a park bench - dark green
like my glass.bottle.heart that could easily shatter
listen to how happiness
can blend everyone's voices
excluding mine;
for mine is weeping

i correct my answer to an equation
by writing it out carefully in the skies;
the number of heartbreaks felt
when A and B divide themselves by
B and A
can only equal 1

the answer '2' had never been possible
despite my believing it was;
for i was never good at math

i rage nightmares away from my head
and put them in little envelopes of love letters
and photographs of joy;
all of which 
i would burn away tonight
to scorch eternal memory
in my mind
and his

i study the traces of
what used to be;
his hair, his body and
the hands that once never left mine,
and try to remember the look on his eyes
the last time i saw them
as the large lid clams shut
and i say nothing but
my last words
to love;
for mine was gone


sitting with my back bent backwards
and legs unfolded
i shy away from uncanny stares and
shed tears through my fingertips
cold and numb from the oozing out of 
my blood which i cannot seem to recognize no longer
no longer

i tear out my eyelashes
and kiss them senseless
a kiss per wish
a wish per pluck
until i run out of ways to believe
that dreams can actually come true

; i turn ugly
fucking ugly

i comb my hair with
razor blades and fork splinters
just to get the color right
to save myself from 
and they wonder why kids don't want to care
but never bother to ever ask

i look on for sunny rainbows
without a reason other than - just because
and i'm struck by lightning
and cursed for life

just because

lying vertical
without truths to why my neck feels
oddly out of place
nor why my feet can't touch the ground which
i so badly wanted to escape from
- perhaps i
just didn't have time
to figure myself out
and decided to


breaking fingernails

i'm looking at you
a glimpse for a second
how i wish i could stick you to my mirror
and stare at you on a daily routine
to find any kind of flaw in you
that i can't locate now
but you're not even giving a glance 
because you're not thinking about me
the way i am
or are you?

i wish you could notice the way i 
strangle myself just for you to 
hear me breathing
breathing your voice and
doing whatever i can
to remind myself of you
just in case you're not remembering me

i'm looking at your fingertips
just inches from mine as you speak
yearning to touch you and 
wondering if you're feeling the same way, too
because i doubt my every second that you are

i'm not the one you picture often, i don't think,
but trust me when i say i see you even after
i blind myself a million times by
staring at the sun to erase your image from my memory

and it just increases on the hurt
when i ask myself why i did that for
because i wish you'd notice my lips bitten
through every minute i restrain

i'm looking at the way your mouth
forms a smile
and i can't help but to find myself smiling, too
because you're everything worth being happy for


i try not to think of the things
that bring me closer to knowing
she suffers every breath she takes

because i want to look strong and
give her the confidence that i
be the daughter she wants me to be

i count the minutes until her fits of coughing will
from the other side of the wall
with the sheets over my head
to cover my tears
and gasps of helplessness

i am holding on too tight
while she is
slowly letting go

i stay awake just to reassure myself
as i hear her footsteps
every morning, 2.39am
i stay awake just to reassure myself
that my mother is still alive

and i hate to think of
the next fight we will have;
door slamming sessions
cut straight to the heart

resulting in me staying awake half the night
wishing i had chosen the 
right words to say to
the woman who raised me up
with all the right ways

i try not to think of the things
that bring me closer to knowing
she suffers every breath she loses

i so desperately want to look brave
and ready to face the world
even though my mother tells me
repeatedly that
i am not.

and she knows because

brave people don't stay up counting down minutes
with the covers hiding them from the 
last second.


i watch him everyday
him, who sits amongst but
looks alone
nibbling his lip piercing 
playing with his fingers

and he has
a stash in his pockets
with a lighter in his hand
as he closes his eyes
to refrain from his thinking

the sound of school bells, or
a smoky escape to another place
he can't feel his pain

he never fails to 
and crack a joke
while he wears a long sleeved shirt
cover the hurt

and i look into him best
when he is laughing
because the shield of happiness
that secures a person from -
-is never there

so he lights up one
inhales the euphoria
life can't give him

it's sad to watch him
realize deep inside that
he fears himself more than 
other people do
but can't love himself anymore
than a stranger could
every time i glance into his eyes
i capture
a little boy
living in his heart
reaching out to be


if everybody looked onto the world
as a colorbook
of blank faces
and were told to draw a smileyface
upon every circle 
with the same colored pen -
it would be a colorbook 
of a family.

what if our reality and dreams switched hues
what if we colour our dreams,
and have us live in black and white?
i figure i could be a much happier person
we lived a monochromatic lifestyle

except, perhaps
our dreams would then be
nothing but nightmares

i compare the number of glares
to my tone of complexion
just a little too dark for your liking?
or maybe you, sir,
a little too light?

i like to stare at lightbulbs
during train rides home -
you know how everything solid suddenly turns purple or white,
when you close your eyes after they
start tearing?

it's a favourite hobby of mine
to stare at people with my eyes close
to witness a fascinating
magic as they
blend into one colour.

because it reminds me of the world
i've never lived in.

Jumper for Pa

I bought pa a jumper
of the softest wool
of his favourite color
for his birthday this year.
To keep him warm and make up for the times we 
should've spent together, when instead i had
- grown up too fast.

I haven't seen pa, for a year or so, now
married and mothering; building a new home.
With all allowance saved from a month
I bought him a jumper to show him my love

Pa was excited to know I'd return,
"I will wait for you, dolly, until you come home."
with a kiss, a smile & tears of joy,
I'd picture him holding my gift
like a child with a toy.

I knew he would've loved it.

I would've given him the jumper
on my last visit,
but i wanted to make it a meaningful gift.
I saved it for his birthday, only two weeks 
with a card written "with love forever, Pa. Forever and a day."

I knew he would've loved it.

The big day came, of my return home
sweet home - Where papa was waiting with 
open arms.
But when I walked through the doors, the silence choked me
as a coffin greeted me instead.

the words my brother whispered into my ear,
when i finally saw my pa after a year.
I'm sorry, sis, but papa's gone.
But papa's gone


I bought pa a jumper,
of the softest wool
of his favourite color
for his birthday this year.
But I came home, too late
too much too late;
I never saw the smile papa had saved
just for his little dolly who never came.

I would've given him the jumper
on my last visit,
but i wanted to make it a meaningful gift.
But i could've made it his final memory,
more meaningful than a birthday wish.

And papa's last words to me still rings in my ears,
"I will wait for you, dolly, until you come home.
I will wait, dolly, I'll wait right here."

you were so believable

i curse myself in the many days i spend in bed believing
everything you told me which i knew were
lies as pure as your sin
and i believe the choices i make were
clearly beneficial

but not to me, no.

i confine myself in the many days i spend 
from my doorknob

- breaking
myself into cold sweat and jagged pieces to place on the parquet floor

d i s j o i n t e d

waiting to indulge in nothing but you

nothing but you
because you were so goddamn gorgeous - 

i'd rather head to a kitchen
where knives and fire
overexposed gas
come alive
and stuff myself with more sin than i can digest
than lie in the stupor i sign myself upon a daily routine

i relish in the many days i spend in your arms convincing
myself that your colossal words were meant for me
and that my dreams were really
our dreams
and your making me whole wasn't your fetish to dissect

i trust in my instincts that
nothing good would come out of this
minus the fact that i
had the feeling of

being in love with someone like you.

i hate the many days i spend without realizing
you never had a return ticket in your hands
when you walked out
and that there was more to why you accidentallypurposely left
the housekeys in the dustbin
along with broken pieces of 
                                             a photograph frame

i surrender to the many days i ponder
on how many stars i could count a night 
on how many unperturbed breaths i could take 
before i ended up whispering your name as
i stumble upon running thoughts and 
censored memories; unable to digress that
there must've been a reason why
you left me in the first place
because, maybe, in your eyes,
i died

to be a lil' more precise, baby

we could wait for another hour,
but does time make a difference at all
except be the obstacle?
whether we slither in 
or out
of silence,
i think a second of just nowordssaid
proves enough.

proves enough to me, to you.

we could hold hands,
but is there a point to this empty gesture
of reminding ourselves what else we 
could have been?
what other air we could breath in;
other than this.

i can hear you wishing to be
anywhere but -

we split into an obvious diversity of
black and white
without the tint of grey to - 
pull us together,
and our lips no longer fit atop one another
like it used to.

and i can hear you wishing i could take
my eyes off of you.
but honey, i'm just making my memory,
so give me time, please.


a tainted promise lingered on his lips,
as he raped the strings
of his ancient guitar 
that holds his secrets
of a 1000 words - unsaid,
each and every one of them
stealing her heart
per second - forever.

never pretty,
he sat, a bittersweet sight of irony,
his uneven eyes sucking her soul breathless
& nothing ever seemed so right, to her -
a whisper of a second, he was beautiful

and she never really knew why.

the melody played
in synch, to the thuds of her heartache,
and he mutters the lyrics of her
favourite love song,
never singing, only muttering
half-heartedly for her to sing along.

a pretty sight,
of forever - in a minute in life,
when he&she entwines,
from the opposite sides of the world;
he, who sits on a broken box, a culture shock,
playing melody - for her alone,
as she stands to watch coins counted
beside him,
in a pretty dress, of expectations
on a pavement of diversity.

& their eyes meet, for a final time
              for a memory.
& they are in love,
a second - forever.

as he whispers the last lines of his
favourite love song.

to her alone,
to his world.


no longer a question of holding back
but a question of
when we give in
and the words seem empty without the reasons
without the answers you used to
give me

so where do i begin
to seek a life without much presence
meanings to regain consciousness
has never seemed so 


it was just brilliant
moments ago
when our eyes met without much distaste
when secrets were barely
to clench our hearts
away from each other

you would never have walked away like you did
we hadn't held back
laughter was more genuine
than the flicker of
turning away that i captured
in our smiles

i'm bound between
realizing the truth of who you are
yet wishing you held it in longer
and suddenly
seem much more beautiful
than what i see


it fades away
that inkling of a second
i was thinking of
what was it?
just now

i indulge myself into an involuntary phase
of which i digress
my unpleasant thoughts
for a blank plate of 






i wouldn't try to remember
because i do
only a collage of a bad reverie
and the pretty things go to waste
dancing and kisses
tainted with grey

like a television screen
a satellite dish can't save
like white noise 
we love from the radio

i seep into my mind once more to
enjoy the luxurious space within
and it begins
every inkling of a second
i was thinking of

...oh, of course.


it's like
my brain disfunctions
and I don't find the right words
like - I wish I can take back
all my fucked up decisions

like a whirlwind
i keep coming back to the start
but breathless, too breathless to 
continue the rounds of
sin and regret

it's like
i notice a difference
in the way i speak
but i can't seem to get myself
to snap back to who i used to be
like - i don't know how but i'm always
screwing it all up

you know?

the affair

and she said
"call me beautiful
& I want you to love me"
stick it up your throat, you sonofa -

more like it seems,
the words that's more like it seems.

you are
staring at her four walls
four and a bit more maybe,
a bit more, after opening the door
just a little bit
to protrude the folds - thousands- of her misconceptions.

there's always more than
your 100% of perspective

and time is not your choice
she could walk away, right out/now
well, might as well just let her,
let her,
or call her beautiful and say that you love her

her. everything is about <-- sin is her beauty lust is her love can you grant anything else more hideous? yet she wants the innocence of simple love that neither she nor you can ever conjure, her. don't lie to <-- so call her ugly and say you don't love her try it. the after sex can apologize for anything, right? as always it always as always it always does.

like this

it's not like this
but i want you to hold my hand

yet i turn away without your noticing

sour nights alone and i fail to please
with thoughtless sighs -
like when i think of you
for example

for example
like when i think of you
with thoughtless sighs -
sour nights alone and i fail to please

you hold me tight ten meters apart
in a vast empty land
where our bodies exist as one
too far apart
our bodies exist as one


as yet another doll 
i play under your fingertips
and you whisper into my ears
things i want you to want me to want you to hear

and it falls back again
the relationship of a soon-to-be lover

i have the power to never let you go
but i need to want you to win my
even more

it's not like this
not at all
but i want you to hold my hand

like this.

the end of a circle

you cup me in the 
cage of your hands, so
filled with authority that
sucks me dry
bleeds me empty.

frameless nights introduce me
to you again
as we trudge down a road that never ends
yet never begins
forsaken by a thousand dreams
we trudge down a road that never knew my name

nor my story.

i follow your fingers,
& trace your lines of 
life and success
a palm reader's digestion
of your hundred lies
divided by me
equals one.

my fingers are frozen to 
a certain extent, nonetheless cold,
i heat up my heart,
to let my blood flow


the flash of a near lighting
reminds me of our photograph 
in monochrome,
so long ago
when the rainbows appeared without rain anyway.

swinging on the other end of
life's see-saw,
i can never see your face
though i enjoy playing games

with you.


and she cries fake tears 
with a sneer, a leer,
as she does things unforgiving,

but begs for forgiveness.

a little white lie, and she kills a heart; fresh and ready
and plunging for it, she takes another long breath
and plunging for it, she marks herself inconsiderate.

and she tries too hard,
to let down, to love hate,
with a fucking threehundredkissesaday,
she forgets her own name

and cries for forgiveness.

so she laughs fake laughs,
lust and luck, with pure infatuation,
she takes his hand and leads him on,
to a world of fantasizing about her all night long,

and she cries with a sneer,
aware of the hurt,
as she does things unforgiving,

but begs for forgiveness.

A fucking debauchery,
she plays with fire, until she burns his heart,
not hers,
a little too late, 
and her life is twisted,
whispering into his ears, thinking of kissingstrangers
frolicks of cheating roses and rolling in the bushes.

her name is mockery,
and she lives to lie.

best friends

and she misses me for just one second
but she steals him every 59
she smiles at me as he forgets my name.

and she misses me, she says.

a minute ago, he told me of his weekend
he bought a new shirt
and she came along
with a swift smile, she extends her hand
a minute and he's gone.

ignorant as hell, they do it again
and i walk away unoticed
-unnoticed, as always- in the end
and her pretty eyes fib, not so pretty anymore
she's fucking beautiful
and he just repents for abandonning her
oh what fucking mockery?

and then he's sorry again
it's just one big joke.

another week of my life, he misses out
and he asks me if I can forgive him
my routine of style
three years, she's known me
three years, she steals
my friendship, my trust, she sells to nothing.

and she cares, she says
and he's sorry, he mutters
he's still my best friend, he states
a million times.
she's still my best friend, she states
nonchalantly, they repeat meaningless chords.

and they forget me again.

bedtime stories

Your papa gave me roses, sweetie,
Told me he loved me everyday,
He was everything close to a man of dreams,
[No, no, honey, he came from nightmares]

He caressed me like I was a baby,
yes, like you, honey, he caressed you tight,
Your papa kissed the heavens out of me,
[He even almost fucking ended my life]

He was a great lover, great father,
[I don't even know his first name]

We spent nights counting stars,
and listening to our heartbeats,
[Baby, I don't even know how he looks like,
And it was only one bloody night]

Baby, did you know your father was a hero?
Saved me from drowning once, he did [what lies]
You have your father's eyes, honey,
[The only thing I remember; etched on your face]

I met your daddy at a party,
He was with his group of friends,
Then, oh, the next thing I knew, I was in love,
[With a wreckage of torn clothes, no, he fucking raped me instead]

Sweetie, it's been 5 years he's passed on,
I'm afraid I don't have a picture of him, no,
[I'm sorry, baby, there's no such thing as a wedding picture,
He doesn't even know you exist;
He doesn't even know I exist.]

He had a slight temper, I guess,
But I used to laugh at his ways,
[Baby, he pounced with such malice,
I cried until I bled]

Then I had you.
[Then I had you]

Your father knew how to make me feel beautiful,
[He used words that disgusted and touch that abused]

[He slapped, and called me a whore,
Then I never saw him again.
Your father was a rapist, poor child,
I never saw him again.]

His Fortress

He built a wall around his life,
As invisible; as invincible as he himself,
He thought.

Tore it down,
she came with glitter eyes,
a little smile came crashing down,
and he tasted a contagious share of laughter.

A life of stone she melted from him,
And colour he saw, since, what-

Trust, he never believes in dreams,
He never even believes in what he sees,
Scoffing at sunset kisses,
He knew better than eternal love,
He knew better than an old lady's wedding ring.

He built a wall around his already caged up heart,
Hiding from the ugly, pretty things.

He knew how to pick her up and twirl her into only-
faint memories,
but forgetting,
is a fickle thing,
and she's twirling through the maze of his heartbeat again.

And he saw the playbacks of her face, alight.
Every minute, so he wonders why.

A life of get-to-the-point, she took away,
Starved him with dishes of smiles and holdinghands,
and he stood defeated - by defeat itself.

He knew better than red roses&chocolates,
He knew better than his own knowledge.

And he feels like he's just not alive.

He built a wall around his escaping heart,
as weak; as vulnerable as he himself,
he knew.

A little magic word saw the end of his cement-set belief,
see, he never believes in destiny;
Scoffing on what he wanted the most,
Turning his back to his own dreams.

And he realizes what it's like to let go; to be loved,
And he feels the protection the walls never gave him.

The protection his trusted walls never granted him.

Santa, Santa

Santa, Santa, are you there?
I haven't written much to you,
I stopped when I was seven, you see,
When I stopped believing dreams came true.

With little luck, I placed myself,
In the arms of the wrong father,
You told us parents loved us so,
But I had love from neither.

Santa, Santa, I prayed every night,
I never missed a day,
When I would cry to God, as my daddy,
Threw his life away.

I've lived a life of a stranger's, Santa,
Was I good or was I bad?
Is this letter too long overdue,
From wasting the tears I had?

Santa, Santa, please don't turn a blind eye,
Could you hold on to this as memory?
Of a girl who tried too hard; too late,
To gain forgiveness from everything.

Pin this up beside your bed,
Where you and Mrs. Claus lie,
And just like the way mom and dad never did,
Could you please remember me every night?

Santa, Santa, are you there?
I've tried to be good this year,
Could you give me a tiny, sacred present,
A kiss on the forehead would do.

I'm asking for love, and a good night's sleep,
Things I don't think I've come to face,
Dress me up in cuddles, please,
Santa, could you tuck me into bed?

Santa, Santa, here it is,
A letter sent fifteen years later,
But oh, I hope it's not too late,
These same wishes I've had all Decembers.


empty wrappers strewn on parquet; torn and crumpled,
with nothing more than a curtain of dust,
choking her to sleep.

each day her nightmares fail to please.

and the leaves wrinkled with time,
outside the decay coloured windows,
and the moths don't sleep,
where her treasures lie;
a couch of empty bottles.

six years ago, her daughter left for good.

rags for robes, she croaks a tune,
of delusional paradise,
and once more, she drags herself
over another night.

an apathetic life she led,
with a made-up meaning to live,
and sixteen years since her love left; died,
she's forgotten how to plead.

an eternity to never forgive.

rolled up eyes, she drones a continous song,
about life in ruins,
she hates her hypocritical self,
a self she never knew.

another gulp of a life-waster,
she indulges,
in a world of make-believe happiness,
but never once has she smiled since the day,
she tangled herself in her covers.

there's nothing left, 
bare house; bare soul,
where shattered memories linger,

choking her to her final sip;
her final breath.

and she wonders why god hates her so.


If you could see me now,
With my head hung low,
Would you take the world and throw,
throw your faults and sins,
Like i told you to?

If you could see me now,
With a gun shot wound,
Would you kiss my lips,
And fulfil the promises,
Every single one you broke?

There's no way I can resist a little temptation,
When temptation is the last resort,
Suicide? No, it's self destruction,
No, it's when I come back to kill you,
But at least, for eternity.

If you could see me now,
With a kiss for a kill,
Secrets wouldn't flaunt.

And everysinglewordyoueversaidtome,
Seems just as sweet as bitter could be.


look up, sunrise,
And the world smiles again,
Another 24 hours until - 

And the tulip kisses don't mean a thing,
Not until the next freefalling.

Sleep, slumber clouds,
The rain tiptoes on the roof of,
The lovers' chalet,
Another night of romance until - 

Painted my finger nails and eyelashes fluttered pretty,
Beauty was a mere lullaby.

And who knew he was everyone else's mirage?

And who knew he wasn't only for me?

Dance under the moon,
It's not yet full, but perhaps,
One more wolf cry until -

And there were many other ways to shine,
Inspiration's only the start.

Don't take my hand,
If you're not going to kiss it,
I like gentlemen, now don't I?

Flowers, frisky,
Yet another fails to repent,
One more breath until-

And the world didn't seem like it was a second ago.

A Prostitute's Daughter

Mama's home, what does she bring this time,
A stranger of one night.
I give a glance, he nods his head,
Well at least he acknowledged my existence,
Unlike the others.

And I'll just go back to work as her bedroom door closes.
Maybe he'll work with her nicer. Just nicer.

Baby sister, please don't cry,
Mama might just get your milk in time,
No I won't listen to what the other kids say,
won't look at the way men leer at her ways.

Do I blame my mother, do I hate?
No I don't blame her but yes I hate,
I hate coming home everyday to an empty house,
And lil' Carla's too young to fill.
I hate that she loves me too much,
To give up her fate,
not her fault for ending up this way.

Mama didn't go to school,
What choices were there?
It's my fault, ever since I was born, wasn't it?
Mama, you can blame me, you can.
If you didn't have to feed me,
If that bastard never left you.

I'm a whore's daughter, a whore myself.

No, Cathy, she doesn't enjoy what she does,
She isn't satisfied, she satisfies,
Yes, Cathy, you deserved my slap, goddamn you did,

Don't you DARE call her a bitch.

Excuse me mister, why are your hands,
On my mother's behind,
Why are you licking her the way you are?
Why are you using words so vile,
Words mama told me never to use,
Mama, is this supposed to be?
Oh it is?

Mama, I'll just go home to prepare you dinner.
And thank you for the kiss, ma.

And that forever look on her forever face,
As she shut her door,
The look of apology,
to the world or herself?
No, it's not her fault,
Not mama's fault,

She's a whore born of love.

It's unfair that they would call her dirty,
Mama cleaned the table after us everyday,
She made sure harm was to her, not us,
Not a man made their way to touch me,
Not a man had gone beyond my mother,
What else could you call this, other than love?

And love is not fucking dirty.

oh, shit

And your screaming makes no sense at all.

Yes I feel it trickling down my spine,
No it's not rain, it's just the burst of the tap,
Of a soon-to-be blood stained bowl,
Welcome to my world.

Forget the kisses, just give me those words,
You know, you know what we both want,
Fucking hell, I'll cut you out,
And wear you around me as display.

You didn't even own the right to look me in the face, did you?

Humming chaotic tunes to sleep,
Was I once alive, maybe?
Oh yes, the lipstick's redder than usual,
Oh yes, my kiss is fatal.

And your laughter is alien to me.

Don't give me smug,
I can show you better,
really thought you stood above me?
Hell, I guess I'll be sleeping on a flood of furniture,
I so blindly overturned.

No, the knife is no longer cold on my skin.

Warm me up, you sweet thing,
with a bloody gorgeous grin, I know you can sing,
Just shut up and hold me,
Stop wasting my life,
Stop scraping me off your filthy plate.

And your life is as important as mine,
I just threw mine away.


Another slap on the face,
Another stab on the back,
"Why?" you ask, as I fall from the skies?

When those things are lost, feelings are trashedcrushedscattered.
So you really think I have all the time in the world,
To care for your words only?

Another push to the ground,
Another step all over me,
"Why?" you ask, as I sleep in the coffins?

One more chance, you give me one more chance,
To go through how much I love, I hate,
One more,
One more time, the blame is mine.

Another frolick of fear,
Another body buried,
"Why?" you ask, as I scream for compromise?

Why, you ask,
Well, why do you ask?
You need an answer,
I'll never give,
Why, you ask,
Well, why do you ask?

When relationships die

when I don't pick up the phone,
It's not because I don't want to talk,
I'm only afraid to run out of things to talk about.

When I don't hug you when you apologize,
It's not because I can't forgive you,
I'm only afraid it will lead to another apology.

When I don't kiss you when you say goodbye,
It's not because I don't want to show affection,
I'm only afraid affection will soon run dry.

When I don't want to meet you,
It's not because I don't want to see you,
I'm only afraid of seeing you differently.

When I don't think we should be together,
It's not because I don't want to be with you,
I'm only afraid I can't.

When I don't want to be the one to end it,
It's not because I want to put the blame on you,
I'm only afraid to hurt you if I do it myself.

Knowing I'd handle it with more control,
If you were the one to mutter it all.

When I don't want to hold your hand,
It's not because I'm unwilling to touch you,
I'm only afraid your hand might not fit into mine.

When I don't want to wear your presents,
It's not because I don't appreciate them,
I'm only afraid they'll turn to just another thing.

When I don't feel like saying I love you,
It's not because I don't,
I just don't want the words to mean nothing.