empty places

I wander aimlessly on the footpaths
in my mind. I dream of becoming,
but I a can never reach the stars.

I am plagued, captured, tormented
by the pain of wanting and never
shall I find the path that is mine.

I stumble down stairs, and streets,
into the fresh air, but all is stale –
the broken cds, used books, and

I stare blankly, unsure of what I
actually see. There is nothing,
There is everything. Hope have

I long forgotten.



With tearful lips I bite and scream,
the eyes of mine are burning,
fire in a worn out stream,
bramble and brush, scratch
and tear at my knees.

I grasp the slim branch before my eyes,
laying innocently, tempting, teasing
with its sharp teeth and ragged nails,
begging me to walk straight into it,
it would end everything, the pain
of sight would fade to blood and
burning. I would be free.

It breaks the skin in my hand,
I snap it, leaving the wick branch
laying helplessly, it’s green bared
to the world, to be ravaged. There is no
pleasing, but I smile anyways, a small
private joke even I don’t understand.

I step away without Good-bye.

Red Lips

I paint my lips in red,
A colour of bleeding cherries,
A sinful delight embracing
the grace of death fall upon deaf ears.

Farewell, mi amigo, the dust settles
and I am born again, set off into the
world, to find life and laughs, but
I only wish I could ignore it all.

I rise from my bed, confused
and tormented, another day in this world,
a paper thin world of marionettes,
this is my life. Residing

in heaven, there is no hope for me,
I shall never be, anymore than
what I have become at this
very moment. You’ll see.

The truth is always born raw,
bared to the world, for even
the children to see. This life,
is not a life for me. Petals.