one day feathers did sprout
from her shoulder blades
that parted like the red sea
besides her spine.
oh, how they grew.
matted with tissue, blood, bone;
interweaved with threads
that pumped with what life was left.
in their growth
took the air and space
that cocooned her flesh.
tendrils of calcium and red
seeped and moulded together
to form two shapely limbs;
two halves of one whole.
in those separate parts
scarlet plumes fluttered.
carved in the cavities between.
the wings could hold their own
and take the violent winds
that gusted through the brisk.
on the morning hour
a pounding of thunder
echoed in the sweat of her forehead
where openings in her skin
bled through like the nails of sin.
two points as sharp as serpents’ tongues
curled upwards and spun
from her aching wounds.
the horns of a lustful goat
in the face of the sun.
more days poured by
like the fractured hands
of a tired clock
mending the passage of time.
but the wings grew in size and strength
taking to skies and beyond
the blackened silk cloth
that hid burning stars,
and clasped secrets in fingertips.
the night the sun
transformed to a red moon
she felt her fancies hunger.
she tore through horizons;
sore splendid distances.
but her body only cried
for a feeding
that would never tame.
and she cried crimson tears
and coated the youthful glow
of her cheeks
that would mark her
but the longing had only
a parasite where love
had once consumed her.
she had caved
to her animalistic appetite.
and in her gluttony
mangled his neck.
snapped his skeleton
to feed off his soul.
a wicked meal
of raw meat.
her eyes glassed over,
from her grimaced mouth.
crazed in ecstasy
as she took his ugly spirit
into her stomach.
she danced around
his silent corpse
She charmed the moonlight
to cast a lustrous kiss
on the curves
of her angelic face.
into that eternal pitch
to one last time
steal the night.
I Am Home, (2021)
Don’t tear me from my wilted throne.
To splendid rule I shall rule alone,
and without much as a crown
shall bend the will of powers downed.
To have spit in a corpse’s mouth
and fill its vacant skull with doubt
as poisonous as Hades’ touch.
I shall love death just as much.
Where there is lighting, strike
the ground, blue at heart.
Enough electric in my veins
to turn those living shards to cinders.
And as you cannot bear to watch me stand
Without faltering to your wavered steps,
I will bite at the ghastly winds.
Hope the thunders snap your neck.
If perchance, you survive the rains
I’ll wish for drought. A deserts’ kiss
to dry the coarseness of your throat
so, your screams are but drowned out.
Then, only then, as you lay carved in stone
I will take to the underbelly. Drag
your moulting hair to feast upon
your bones and soul.
I am home.
Tears Are My Delight (2018)
Why are you telling me to stop crying for no reason?
Do you think I'm crying for the feeling?
Love the suffocating on my lungs,
just breaking till I'm numb,
the panic doesn't stop until I'm done.
Don't be fucking dumb.
You think I love the tears,
cutting into my cheeks,
The taste familiar-wicked sadness;
A delightful treat of madness in my mouth.
My psyche split up and served upon a plate.
My palette engorging my mind.
You think I can be sustained by such a meal?
Oh, flesh and bones so deprived they cannot grow.
You cannot be so ignorant to tell me that
it is hunger I do not know.
Then take over my body, walk in my footprints-
I can assure you, you'd fall the first step,
trip over and break your leg.
Amuse me-walk in my shoes.
Let's see if you don't bruise
and falter in the place where you stand.
And tell me (after enduring that path),
when you reach the end, the bitter end,
if you'd choose to walk that path,
that very path, once again.
Do you know what it's like to have the superpower of words
But the inability to use them.
Unless on paper with pen
or structured; rhymed
Or intertwined in prose.
The pen is mightier than the sword;
The words are sharper
and cut the inside of my mouth.
Get caught in my throat.
Get stuck in the scars when I speak
That never will close.
My words, they can heal me.
But in the end
will kill me.
You are the fear, in all its likeness.
You cause destruction to all that you see,
Like a lightning bolt in a storm
That seeps its power onto the weak.
You are a flower
But you not by its graceful blossoms,
But rather its deceiving thorns.
And if you were an ocean
People would not wonder at your possibilities
But tremble at your unknowns.
The Shattered Glass (2016)
In the mist, some months have passed
Of looking in the shattered glass.
A disfigured reflection greets your eyes.
Who do you see?
A stranger? No.
The face familiar?
A friend or foe?
Not quite so.
It cannot be.
This mangled figure is quite your own.
With eyes of piercing black of night
And lips curved in fearing fright,
With cheeks coloured poison rose
And skin scarred and growing cold.
How can it be?
In your skin
Is it unknown?
This intruder? No.
This beast has a name
And this name, you own.
Withered and faded, memories
Entombed in the cracks of your mind
Seeping out in their darkened cries.
And then, like that, it came to show
What happened those dear months ago.
We saw the truth
You knew the lies
Just not quite known
In this dear, dear world
Both future, present and the distant past
Is the disfigured beast in the shattered glass.
Where there is darkness, they reap and seep with haunting eyes that glow in sadness. Hunted down, beaten and ridiculed by their own madness. Of such strange delight in peering through broken glass, to be bearing of a shadow that vastly lasts in your heart. Yes, the black pit you call your heart, which could not be further apart from reality; the reality that ceases when you are upon it. Do you exist as a figure of your pleasant dreams? Or a beast of crawling nightmares that frightens peace? Where in the world does your wilting, whining whirl of a soul perch itself? Admit its fearing unknown onto us all?
In this vast existence, plagued by entities of far wide breaches into sorrow, pain is lasting beyond tomorrow. You are the pain of yesterday, days to come; past hits and miseries, tortured down to fit. Yet you could not fit, not like us all. An immense omniscience of lifeless stance and where you glance, those would shatter.
As if you matter.
Not at all. Don't even think it, or feel it, or wish it. Don't even believe it for a minute. You are worthless in all degrees of humanity; no beauty resonates with your smile. A half grin that seeps upon your face is madness for the rest of us. Don't forget: you are in darkness, when we are in light. I would not forget that you are a cold stone amongst the dazzling ablaze of fire.
But remember: the reader of this poem is you.
A calm collected breeze passes through,
To which she hears a sudden, sadistic whisper
Heightened by the fury in her mind. It pierces
Into her skull and she hears it solemnly.
Then ignited, fury burns in her eyes like a
Furnance, burning, burning, burning.
Its scorching glow a warning: to strike a
Match is to strike one’s heart quicker
Than a tiger leaping through the grass.
Dead. The prey is caught,
Caught between knife-like jaws
Dripping in what only can be
described as crimson brass, the prey
Is dead, the fire lasts. And to what knowledge
Did her prey not see? That it was the cause of
Her wrath, and tempers burning free? Oh, for
Ignorance is weak, one must know better than
To bring oil where flames do grow; now nothing else remains.
But the ashes in her soul.
This I promise you,
to you I swear.
From the bottom of my broken heart,
from the corners of my blackened soul,
While you are richer and I am poorer.
In sickness and in death,
In pain and in sorrow.
To have and to let go,
because you could not hold on.
Never for better, never for worse.
For as long as I am dying,
until my breath do us part.
For as long as there is no God,
I shall make this vow.
I will have your life.
This I solemnly swear.