I don’t want to count the stars,
And wonder at those glistening points
Nor wander through the untouched thicket, Pffft!
Who has time for all this!
I don’t ask for much. Never have.
Simply not enough time, nor patience
For self is the centre of it all.
Minutes fall around me, hours roll
Away, like pebbles
From the hands of a child
But do I dare whimper? Or shed a tear?
Thick skin as they say, like cow hide
Beaten down, so many times
I hardly feel the pain.
Those you love the most are the ones who enjoy watching you bleed. And
sometimes you need to ask yourself
Have all that love been in vain?
Hours roll, unfeeling, just as years have rolled before them
With the heaviness of machines, well oiled
Tired eyes, tired heart, spent and alone watch on
Where did it begin?
Where to end? Should it end? Questions
Those painful hooks, tear into the flesh
I don’t wear white, for it shows off the red
Of a wounded bleeding skin.
Haven’t you heard?
Simplicity is the hardest thing.
Less is more, more is less
Who makes these rules, where do they bend?
Can they bend?
Questions. They know
No answers. Life
Is such, as we constantly tell ourselves.
But is it really so? Who makes these rules?
Where do they bend? Can they bend?
No one knows, does
Oh won’t you stay,
Let the midnight weep your absence
Run into my arms, fall unto me
Like a ripened leaf in autumn, weary
An exploding star, in all your darkness
Your rage, your light, your fire, I admire
Your undefined depths, I am aware
That you are, but dust
In all your magnificent glory.
But oh, won’t you stay, linger on
Like the sting of too much pineapple on sensitive teeth, or the dull pain in feet
After a long, happy walk. You are
But human, and beautiful,
In the way you stand alone amongst your own debris.
Let the midnight weep, let
The skies simper and mewl for your cruel niceties
Butterflies disguised as mice, scuttling around the corner
I see beneath the veil, and still
Stand amused, feeling
Walk into your heart people may and
Leave solid footsteps, a fleeting trail of summer blossoms at times
But sometimes all they leave is
A muddied, bloodied mess, strewn with carcasses.
Cleaning up is a bitch.
My heart longs to retire, into the
Cool, mossy embrace of the woods known
The jungle path well traveled, but what use
Is one’s comfort zone but to rot and reek of remains?
A rustle of leaves and a soft sigh of wind brings back your breath
Upon my cheek, a silent kiss
So sweetly wrought
With the subtle pain
Yet I recoil, rewind, wrap myself around me, sink
Unto myself, instead
Of reaching out and touching your face,
Every single time.
Here I sit and
Spin hours away, as days
Drag their feet across the floor making
A terrible racket.
You, in your acheful distance
Tug at my veins squirting
Purple blood, blue
I pine for you,
You pine for me and
End up in each other’s arms
Sooner or later. Not bad
For real life. But,
Right here, right now
My soul longs, for a scent of you.
Minutes fall around me, like shrapnel
From a splintered dream, if
I pay attention, embrace the shards for a moment of comfort, I
Always end up bleeding, tending
To my own wounds, with
Old rags of memories.
Utter nonsense, this distance
An unwanted boulder, in the midst of our warm, tranquil sea.
A beautiful yearning, yet
A crippling hunger that
Feeds on strands of happiness, falling through the blinds of absence.
This won’t do.
I miss you.
Yesterday I felt your absence,
Right beside me, like a perilous drop
From which I edged away, fearing for life.
Emptiness overwhelmed, overthrew
What little sanity was left, as
Hip hop beats pelted all around
Like paralyzing darts at a
Sore, swollen heart.
Have you ever felt how lonely, how barren
These club beats make you feel?
Well, you know how this goes,
Every time I look at myself in the mirror I
Try so desperately to catch maybe
A glance of your smile in my own eyes, a splinter
Of a memory perhaps trapped within
From when I last held you.
Well, you know how this goes.
When feelings overflow I throw
Handfuls in the air and catch
What I can on paper, try and build
A bridge to you with words, but
Does that bring you closer? No, but I try.
And there I sat in a lonely cab homeward
Fingers itching, to ruffle your hair
Heart a wriggling mess, scratching itself in a frenzy
Mad with longing, just for a feel of you.
Yes, so your absence gives me words, bittersweet
On the tip of the tongue, but
I’d much rather have you instead.
Intervene you must, oh fate
You funny little thing
Cruelty is your second nature, mystery
Being your thing.
Butterflies flew over head, while
Smiles popped lips like flower buds
Eyes locked, intertwined
Knowingly pregnant, exquisitely
You had to make your presence known, didn’t you?
Some sulk in dark corners invoking
Whirlwinds of ominous sighs
While others disappear into the dark, dark night, shedding
Petals of longing behind.
Love is a word that never belonged here, of which
The syllables never touched lips, around which
Tongues were never curled, a word
Shrouded in confusion and feeling, a word
Merely whispered in thought, in secret
In the dark recesses of the mind
Sentiments sucked in by empty vessels of
Thundering silence, inner dementia
Creating illusions, breeding
Dark and pungent
Hand in hand, in
A parallel universe where
Fate is but a word
That is jotted in parchment paper, blotted
Out by dust,
Beautifully golden, long forgotten
All encompassing dust.
The city clothed itself in sombre robes
The trees stood silent, leaves no longer
Dilly-dallying in the wind
Respectful reverence, or was it
I saw your face through the haze, petrol fumes
Clouded my judgement. You
Touched my hand and smiled
Into my eyes. Cue – this is where I melt, into your arms
Helplessly, aimlessly wander, let you engulf me, liquid
But something had frozen. I guess I do not melt anymore
It was strange yet comforting, I needed you no more.
Yet words splatter the walls at unforseen moments,
At the absence of a janitor, I am left
Mopping up the walls in silence.
Gnawing at thoughts these tiny little creatures,
Scuttling all over, pricks sometimes
Those pointy meddling feet, numerous
In composition. Hurt
Comes at unexpected times.
Somewhere drips bleeding, and I
Think to myself that
People are meddlesome insects and I
Find solace only in my thoughts, so
Loyal and so intimate.
Walls have been built and I
Wouldn’t know where to begin to
Dismantle them, nor
If I would ever want to, the
Naive and trusting thing that I am, the
Humble clay walls that I’ve built,
For Citadels of pride.
Find my thoughts to be my friends and they
Keep me occupied enough, conversing
In varied tones, I
Live inside my head.