The descent


It starts with the small cracks

pushes through the crevices, tiny ugly blobs, remnants

of unconscious sighs.

Tar-black and reeking

of discarded hope, it whimpers

snuggling into the wounds

like all the puppies you’ve lost as a child.

In moments of loneliness it whispers

Coaxes you to feed, to nourish yourself

From its dark, dreary milk and

You gnaw, half-hearted

Like you do at cold food

A day too old to eat, but too much of a waste to throw out.

It starts from within

Swirls of disappointment, internal chaos and black, black death

And before you know it, you are all topsy-turvy

Too mangled and ugly for anybody to save

Like a mouse hanging from cat jaws

Like a forlorn napkin, held by a single peg

Against a raging storm.



If only it had a mouth it would have smiled

Serpents coil round and round an anemic heart

Choking, throttling

While it spits blood, squirts

Water, for blood has been shed

Many, many times.

Having been ravaged by prying vultures

Having been pinched by thoughtless fingers, needles

Of indifference, cruel, stabbing words

Having been attacked with poisoned arrows, almost

Been sawed apart once, minced and mangled

Being choked now is a privilege,

A piece of chocolate fudge

Topped perhaps with a cherry, or

A juicy looking strawberry.

If it had a mouth the heart would have smiled

For light is just about to fade from its eyes,

And the pain is about to cease, about to stop

Serpent venom lulls the agony to numbness

While it penetrates, explores every aching curve

Every burning alcove

Of carefully kept love and guarded memories.

If it had a mouth it would have smiled

For the anemic heart shall no longer beat

Heart wrenching doleful tunes

For now

It patters out its own funeral march

Never to beat again.


Darkness came

Yes it came, on an unsuspecting day

Uncharacteristically nimble on its great clawed feet.

It whispered

Through its clenched teeth, hateful whispers

Abominable whispers

Its breath stank of wasted lives, its spit tasted of minds lost

It whispered, sent thousand spiders scuttling through the ears,

A mind whimpered

As spiders spun their crafty webs

And darkness weaved its shifty skeins

And hope got caught and struggled

Bled within the barbed wire, shed its wings and died.

Thoughts scattered

Like the pearls of my mother’s necklace that I once broke and cried

Cried and cried till every pearl was collected

Cried and cried till the string was mended, with love.

And yet

Who is to collect my scattered thoughts

And piece them back together again today?


Fire burned,burn

Burn to cinders, life

Disapears, fading


Now a mere shadow

With no meaning

Growing cold,cold

Like a a broken wing,helpless


Fragile, breaking

Life ceases breathing


Yet surely

Tick,ticking life

Ticks away,gradually

Like a dying man’s heart

Stops beating.


Perfection reeks, coils around

Serpentine fake smiles

Hiss. Hollow words

Drop. Emotionless eyes

Devour. They

Seek to lure. A mind

Perches on a leafless branch

Barren. And wonders

Where have all the flowers gone

Empty words

Resonating through the ears,comforts

Provokes that first angry word

Directed at a sincere heart,a poisoned dart

First dazes,then paralyzes

Finally kills.Painful death

As one dart follows another

And yet

Another.Once one escapes,the others

Easily slip through.Murder!

A mind gathers moss on a barren dying branch

Withers,shrinks,becomes a mere twig

Serpentine fake smiles shine

Emotionless eyes,they glitter


Ominous clouds

Dark clouds creep in, threaten

To throttle the horizon, thunder growls

Lightning menaces

It already struck once, once upon a time

Almost killed

But we live with the belief

That it never strikes the same place twice.

Coldness reigns, chills the bones, indifference

Oh indifference, carry me away

Did lightning strike again?

I hope not, because this time

I will lose the faith

And shall recover no more.

Take all your burnt skin, its awful stench

I cringe at your sight, be gone, be gone

They said

Lightning does not strike the same place twice

But it had it seems

And I believe no more.


Le monde de catastrophe

C’est un monde catastrophique

Une catastrophe des papiers froissés, des pensées melangées,

La différence entre ce qui est dit et

Ce que je crois d’être vrai.

La terre est une cimetière indifférent

Où marchent les morts-vivants plastiques

De douces paroles trompeuses

Que certains choisissent de croire.

Parfois, il vaut mieux de ne pas savoir

l’ignorance est une bénédiction

un luxe qui ne m’appartient pas.

Piles et des piles des notes,la gravité du travail à faire

Se font tourner autour de moi comme un ouragan

Un ouragan qui menace de m’engloutir

Même mon pauvre squelette branlant

Qui n’a plus de force a se tenir……