Wholesome Path

Across the room there were no curtains, not even a door. There were no lights, no windows, no bed nor a chair. Within the room there was the world that produced the world she bears. Who stands before a mirror how numb she is. More the world outside the mirror was still and void; more the world outside the room was so dark and cold. Here before the mirror visions of pain and remorse seeped through the walls that no flower could never grow. A salty sea would wash her away into the essence of that so painful. To and fro the seas descend into the room and traverse her into the most painful – no light to light her past for all to see, only to feel.

This mirror ere bespoke still stands, however long the waves crash, however strong the winds will tear her away. She still lives, still to see her walking through the waves. Every memory passes through each wave and shifts through day and night, not that it would matter where she was; no one would hear her; no one would see her. These memories that come to life with each breath, that with each breath her scars return; however mortal she is, her memories will remain immortal. Read More


But the darkness would not lift,
For it was the black of life that slowly falls,
Though he hears an echo how slow,
A voice so distant could never repeat its words,
How long could he heed the words?
If not by line but by meaning conveyed so well,
A spartan was he who dared to sleep,
Through day and night would he stir and err to fight,
For life thus he fights for death,
Though creases of life can fade but daren’t turn,
Though true is life’s essence to give,
Pleased to see reason and happiness in all ways,
But ere is sought for comfort but gained,
Whatever their lies and ne truth nor morals,
Shall see another fight at bay,
Who can feel the air so cold and hot to bear,
Whence it gestures for hardy action,
Tears their flesh round and heart thus it rends, Read More

Of Yahoos and Humans

From thence he returned with no abode but lay,
Could not utter words at what horror that may,
So much he would foul in disgust that serves,
Sees himself in a mirror where shrieks his nerves,
Henceward casts himself in the dark and forgets,
More he spits at himself and his skin begets,
A figure stood but could not look back in thought,
How, now? could he ever seek himself in thought,
What gesture too divine can seek him clear of woe,
However beautiful is life without presence of woe,
For caused but ere bestowed was he unto others,
Another human is that which he clearly bothers,
Is sought this trail that leads the hunt towards,
His angst so large and far can escape him homewards,
At last he arrives and sees himself through reality,
One amongst the people in a world of bestiality, Read More

Within the Widest Space

To envy the past for what it is,
For better nor for worse than is,
The wind that blows slowly passes,
A subtle movement once it stirs, gone,
The buildings stood thus again stood,
The cars that drive shall drive again,
Another day that passes, another sun,
Nor night that covers the eyes soon,
The trees that glide through time,
The clock that still is whole but ticks,
With every tick a drop of rain utters, Read More

Skating on the Moon

Somehow in one way or another they landed,
Was but no question to ask lest they banded,
A soothing sound there was none on Earth,
Not even in during the first hour of birth,
A smell of roses that covered them both,
Drop of water through the planes is love,
The circumference of the two was nigh,
The area divided between the two was pi,
This figure so dark, so silent yearned to dance,
I will dance with her; I will reveal my stance,
There’s a slide that gives me leave to destroy,
She evades and seeks my resolve as a boy, Read More

Blood and Memory

Reel this heart that sinks so deep,
Alone was once this breathing heart,
Swimming in an ocean of wine in hue,
Go, and give him a reason to redeem,
Of all the men why would he choose?
Regardless, the connexion is nigh,
Alive and well, he’s swimming through,
There’s another man he bonds so dearly,
Another which can see so clearly,
A symptom of the past who cannot read,
Is time but so slow and precious to see? Read More