Move it, Sunshine.

On a hill where wars were once waged, sits a willow that weeps when it rains. It calls to the gods with each blow through the sky; earthed in the pasts remains. The faces and sounds and bloodied grounds; a twisted carnival of shame; hard to breathe even harder to believe that the sunshine isn’t … More Move it, Sunshine.

She Bled Red Wine

I wrapped her, in red ribbon. I breathed against her skin, and heard her thoughts crashing against the inside of my skull, like bones clicking when stretched too far. She ached. Though I didn’t know why. Nor could I ask. Not yet. Her eyes changed colour with each mechanical snap of the lens. A flash … More She Bled Red Wine

Boxes Undone

In the aftermath of the tippled boxes come undone; ribbons untied, and words scraped from corners of a pale skinned mind, unrefined; do I say I am sorry? When I was just a girl, in dresses printed in sunshine and sewn together with trust, I learned that words mean very little. Unless, they cause an … More Boxes Undone

Incoming, Oh YES!

I have the backbone for war, for blood soaked skin, hair soaked in red victory. Eyes bright green, manic with the dance of songs written before my time. My stomach is knotted at the thought of what lies ahead. So many broken people, who will effectively have to lay their swords down and trust me. … More Incoming, Oh YES!

Empty

Forget me knot, the tangled mess that interrupts. The silence that pushes back. The wordless forgiveness in the slack. The humanity in the tunnel vision. The peace in the quietness in the monotony of level headed dispassion. I forgot how to love, today. Was more of triggered mental delay; a test in compassion. On how … More Empty

Get it Right

Some days, I spend the whole day feeling like as I walk, as I move, I leave behind a slight heat signature. A trace. Evidence that I was there. Like my mind is bleeding. Like my dreams and the bad things in them have found a way to come out. I miss time. Time misses … More Get it Right

Weak Knights

There is a weakness in the voice of the man who bends only to gawk. The man who believes that valour always settles in an attractive sort of subtle distinction on his suit of shining armour. There is a weakness in the man who wants so badly to drape a flower on his arm, and … More Weak Knights

I’m Fine.

There are seconds, sometimes long hours, where my head feels heavy. Heavy with a weighted accumulation of thoughts. Some unimportant, and some important enough to be worth avoiding. But to turn my back on one, means to stare at another, and the pressure is not unlike that of a boiling kettle. Steam burns brand those … More I’m Fine.