listen.

listen.

listen to your pulse thunder through the shield 

listen to your life dislodge into fast forward 

then see it past you, this pulse that distracts

from the calm that you stoically wrap around your naked being

the paper thin sheen like muscle tissue pulls

at its most tested stretch, the risk of tearing

the risk of 

snapping

uncoiling

unraveling

unraveling

unraveling

unraveling.

listen.

listen to the silence, wait for it to deafen you

wait for it to vacuum you inwards 

spinning like a hurricane that settles for less than a hum

listen to it as it pulls at your pace

as it lingers around the corner

as it shouts

angry and loud

angry and loud

this silence is angry and loud

when you hear it from the outside

because you are always waiting

waiting for it to pass.

listen.

listen to the waves of reality

crash over you

a tidal free fall where you slip into the undertow.

listen.

but don’t stop moving.

the channels they switch off

the phone doesn't ring because i matter today.

the colours don't match from my skin to my shoes;
i am an unwashed palette
murky and lacking form.

my words taste sharp and sound rusty today.

i forget to place my pain into the melodies
that stretch over guitar strings
it begins to seep out in my godforsaken
muttering echoing the demise of an eighty year old woman
who has forgotten her place in the world.
it begins to seep out in the dull of rushed smiles
in the strain of my left shoulder
under the words that remind me day in day out
that there will always be room to become unfamiliar to myself.

words that make the silent screech
words that bring the dead back to life
words that send the monsters scurrying under beds
because they too need shelter from wrath.

the lies that wake with me are not mine to bear today.

they are the lies that belong to the ones who
left us behind, and i am angry
for this ugliness i feel does not sit well with the beauty
we summon so naturally on better days.

it is a sad revelation
of trying to convince an unbelieving world
that in finding you, i felt less defeated
yet the world tries to even defeat
this prize of years and years of self repair.
why
is love so abused?

today has been almost half a year of
an unhinged grief
that swells from the fires
of contorted paranoia
of tampered memories.
i have witnessed enough
to want to not witness it all
but to live it all.

i am not a victim of anything else
but this shameless blame
you fucking cunts.

we do not want this throwaway life
so many live
choked with ungrateful resonance
we do not want this life that hangs heavy
on the slump of my pillows
and the strands of my hair.

the lies had long begun before i was born.

there was never a time or place
before you
when i got the right answers
from the words of another human being
because there will never be an answer
honest to a question that surfaced from within myself
from people who never latched on to collective
consciousness, letting themselves become shells of
collected information.

sometimes
i am the eighty year old woman
and it is always a lesson to be learnt
to never listen to these thoughts
because thoughts never listen to me
they only rant and rant and rant
and rant
and most of the time
they don't even make any fucking sense.

sometimes
i am already dead
sleeping in a paralysis that even stuns you
as you sit by my side
fearing the state of cold blankness
when i open my eyes and do not
see you, for i do not see me

all i see in times like these
is the sheen of hate
that is not ours.

reality does not shift over my fears anymore today
and i do not shift over reality.

it is an ugly lie, fear
and people like us do not give fear that much credit.
when you are neck deep in its pool
and you are kept there with the mere idea of
watching the one you love also struggling for air
because then
no one will even attempt to float over with a lifeboat
this pool full of people too unfazed
to go off the grid that keeps them in line.

i do not want to be kept in line
but why is the alternative to become
deadweight thrust upon cliff shores?
why is it the norm
that though freedom is as priceless as its definition
but always highly contracted
when demand for redemption and imprisonment
is the only other option?
i do not want to be kept in line
but i do not want to be the ones they pick up
from the shores; we are not built for the news
and channels they switch off.

if i want to be unseen,
all i have to do is hide
under the waves
where the waters are calm
where all is dark
deaf and breathless to life beyond the surface.
if we want to be unseen
all we have to do is hide
but
why would we?

the bowing rain

these days are withered and damp

like the dying grass of Northern winters

drowned under the swollen earth

these groundbreaking waters don’t belong here

but they keep falling, falling, falling out of place

piercing into our skin through our pores nerves bones

freezing acid

reminding us that pain will force us

to seek shelter within ourselves.

this dawning year

dormant and unlived

is only just awakening, now

at the grovel of our patience

where the days have held 

the depths of paralysing sleep.

but we shed light 

in the shuddering darkness

for it is the light

that teases shadow play

and we are the good that feeds evil’s

never ending hunger.

fear only thrives in its job

alongside those that are brave enough

to keep its position credited of its worth.

these winds they shake even the strongest pillars

like they shook you 

like they shook me

we are the autumn leaves

dancing frantically until the whistling wind

pauses to catch its breath.

we have grown to memorise

mesmerised

our worldly beings as the map

to solace and away from every blow

this angry life aimlessly throws

because we have been shown

in sleep and in wake

the magic of our ethereal accord

can warm the deepest of chills.

the panic can only contain within the binds

of the pages for so long

before the smoke begins to rise

and the chapters have singed

the pages brown

catching fire for new ink to settle

these unforgiving times

they show us the hues we bathe in

teaches me to dive into the spectrum that grows

from the rainbow’s end where my eyes

open

and i laugh

i laugh at the unforgiving

and take your hand

knowing this time

hell will not remain inside us

because we are the ones

that travel across realms

and break from ties that bind.

fire in the sky

our grip is firm and unshaking
bearing familiar life,
like the roots that dig far beneath
the tundra of the earth,
searching through dark clumps of dirt
for permanent life matter
that will allow for the growth of the
strongest,
most upright tree.

your worn eyes, burning ever so bright
like fire in the sky,
they reach into me with such
strength,
and a purity so delicate even
Evil will not comprehend it enough
to pull it down from you.

i see my other self when i look in,
and i understand every unspoken word
that gets caught in the fray of
your breath when we are
wholly and all-encompassingly
mesmerised.

there is no pedestal, 
there is only balance, 
for finally, our hearts are
as free as they are full.
the holes roughly dug up and abandoned
are now wide open no longer despaired
nor vulnerable,
as they at last, learn to
let light in.

these words

these words are meant to hit dead centre

these words are meant to show how ugly you are

when the sun sets into the death of your eyes

and you no longer shine

no longer have that mask everyone has grown to love

including yourself.

these words are meant to be answers

but these words don’t fucking exist

these words do not wash the tip of tongues

these words are what asphyxiate and suffocate a soul that continuously 

tries to live.

these words rip your hair out.

these words pull at your ribs

causing you anxiety and nervous deterioration

these words hit you right where your honesty

brews, where your honesty

lies.

these words smell like soiled papers

these words smell like pain.

these words are mirrors

these words are mirrors

these words are mirrors

these words hit you dead centre

these words call you out

because you are a coward behind

these smiling eyes

this hearty laugh

this hand you reach out to so many who

ask for it.

these words are your own

they will keep coming

they will keep coming

they will keep coming.

to live, is the biggest breath of fresh air

the mountains move in the distance.

slanting over these trench lines, 

arched and sculpted through the 

wars raged over barren lands. these

front lines hold no army, but allow 

the breeze of my fingertips

to raise the earth from the silence of forgotten

and over trodden senses.

there were wars fought, lost and won

across this battlefield of a being

now making peace in the breaths of aftermaths;

blood that spills can only dry,

and so it does, giving way

for new soil, to dig through for sunlight.

this land will no longer be barren.

i feel these mountains move when i look in.

these windows with their frosted frames

and crumpled curtains, they open

to the frivolous bush fires that yearn to shed light

snaking through the landscapes of a newborn life.

the view is divine. the view is pure.

i will roam this kingdom

without maps

as these paths are best traveled through

muscle memory; deep down,

i trust that it is here

where i have always lived

it is here, in the heart of this kingdom 

where i will carry on living.

though my senses may sometimes be blunt 

and unfamiliar

i trust that it is here

where my soul will take me exactly where i need to be

among the folds of the valleys

where we will meet,

again and again

in eternal embrace.

the man without a shadow

and i,

together we will craft

rivers of words and fields of colours

forever.

this kingdom rises

under godly skies;

under our skin and 

under our eyes.

the view is divine. the view is ours.

where gravity fails

the smoke rises.
i am here again, staring at what time has left me.
the dusk is heavy, falling like ash in the wind
from a sky that hangs like broken fences
and wet clothing.
the monochrome folds have lifted
giving way to the colours of a mindscape
that echoes through the plains of what is
long barren and forgotten

all eyes are on me like
needles piercing my nerves
and the angels hide their faces
as their hymns burn to the ground
like the work of terrorists that live in mirrors

this is an unforgiving world
spitting delicate acid in the shy of the night
into the embers of our hearts
look now, look hard into the eyes of the dead
and find life that you will never understand.

lift my shade, see the colours
unfold like maps that lead you nowhere
watch me thaw
from the ice in my heart and fire in my soul
as i dance
as i dance
as i dance
with the demons

get caught from the outside
get caught from the center of
diseased beliefs and treacherous hope

count me in
count the steps it takes
to frown in the cold face of death
as it laughs at an immortality
you will never learn of.

this blessed curse

i reuse this weight of bleeding carpets
trays and trays of distractions parallel to one another
the truth lies under their breaths
kissed out and sucked into the core of me
i hide in corners forgetting my existence
focusing on my eternal lineage
to let it all out
to let it all out.

black shards of hate
staining my lungs until i
stagger my breath and fall out of line
i close my eyes
turning inside out to
shed some skin from within
draining my veins and rinsing them clean
because being reborn every day
is no easy task
when people take the shine in your eyes for granted
never seeing the way they will
glaze over and turn to stone.

they ask about miracles
they ask about magic.
with every one of those spectacular
breathtaking moments
comes a soul that is breaking
little by little everyday behind the curtains
bearing down by all the weight of
vacuumed pain and brushed up hate
piles and piles of negative debris left over
that don't reach enough light to evaporate out of tangibility
because we live under sunless skies
in the grey that blinds happiness.

shedding skin is never enough
to tamper with the unbalance of
all that still writhe and coil inside me;
this growing beast
feed it or flee it,
the choice is not there, the choice
was never mine to make.

seeds

these winds have blown
too long for its wear,
i create energy within each vowel
each consonant, each idea
that hang like ripe apples off a tree
ready to be picked.

certain emotions can stagger,
can shake your entirety,
and these are the emotions we learn from,
these are our mentors
when we face the worst alone.

there are no more seeds to plant
on this patch of trodden, dug up,
ripped apart wasteland,
where everything will have an end,
because death is the biggest certainty
of this uncertain life.

this is a comforting thought
among the rubble and
decrepit landscapes that shape
the world in my hands.

death is coming
it always is
but i will not just sit and wait for it
but let it work hard
to catch up to me
one more time, one last time.
and when it does
it will not let me go
so i will embrace the surrender
the final overtake.

there are no more seeds to plant
on the landscapes of this restless life,
now watch as the rest of us
wither into frail, dried up
images of time.

dancing shadows

shock therapy, brandished

like an angry blade

over love

the blinding shine of sharp edges

caught in the burn of the sun.

there are strangers, dancing on glass

before me,

every step closer shatters beneath their feet

in a disarray of  forbidden colours

for my timely visual feast.

i see it all when i step back

for a clearer view; my schizophrenic 

conversations play back like old films,

my inability to breathe when the tides of hostility

rises over the shore of my calm.

these visions, they leave me stranded on 

the barren plains of my mindscape,

with feral desires, primal instincts that 

teach to inflict or retreat as i encounter

the darkest of memory matter. 

these visions show me the art

of raw survival.

we are the pioneers of our own demise

our own eternal bliss/ the words

get stuck between these organic cogs

placing pressure on unwanted silence 

that dry up our lips, until one day

something breaks in the quiet

sending unwanted sentences hurtling through

the parallels of our sane perception of reality -

here is where we unravel

becoming wholly stretched out

and centered. 

hidden in the folds of time

are intangible pockets of unforgettable consequences

those that are too big to fit in tiny pockets

drop down like bombs

leaving you scattered and scraping for the most basic level

of life on its hinges, covered in the ashes of

broken truths and long-term denial.

these eyes, they watch me from afar

as i ferociously dance on glass ceilings

for all the weight of my being

remembering this time

to never ever look down again.

my eyes burn as i stare into the distant

dark of the night

willing all their surging energies of fear and helplessness

to take their exit before i blink.

the strangers steps out of the haze

familiar figures i have known through many universes.

they show me to forget this heightened vertigo

to never stumble on frail glass by looking beneath

the transparency

because all the underlying unknown matter 

we can't reach alive or have to die for

does not deserve the fall of our rhythm.