A Message to Burn

Image credit: http://www.spokesman.com/stories/2010/aug/15/1910-fire-region-consumed/#/0

They will never know how much you swallowed. They will never understand how much it hurt. Hindsight can only glance at the depths of emotional gradation sinking deeper and deeper in the well of yesterday.

You are completely validated in your anger.

The forest steams in the late afternoon sun, the stench of smoke and ash sinks into your bones. Grey and coals blanket your feet, the stoic fossils of trees list in anguish as their twisted fingers impale the sky. Sparks still pop, but more in hush and awe at the aftermath. Heat sears your feet, the white ash hides the glowing heart of flame hunkering down for the moment but ready to rise anew.

You wonder if it should rain. The clouds froth overhead, fading from light to dark and back again, mirroring your tumultuous thoughts. Should you have mercy or should you add more fuel?

Weariness descends suddenly. The cinders in your palm sting and gnaw greedily at your melting skin. Pain inflicts you despite the death of the forest -as if the trees had infused their agony into your flesh.

Should you persist? Or should you forgive?

Thunder rumbles, lightning forks through the clouds. Darkness falls, a final curtain. A fat droplet slaps your cheek -more follow. Stinging droplets of ice prickle the carcass of the smoldering forest; steam sings as the liquid infuses the veins of fire.

The embers flicker in your hand. Rain torrents with wrath and fury, each drop a tiny dagger of retaliation. You thought the fire to be all-consuming, but underestimated the rage of the skies.

A final song of sorrow, ash slogs into mud, the caramelized trees surrender their orange flame for blacked rags. A cleansing rain that moistens the dust and death with the promise of something new.

You know that it will take time to heal.

The wet streaks on your face aren’t (just) rain.


Zis Regret: Her Final Valentine

Ze wishes to go back in time
And never meet her
Knowing now, the end
Ze wished it had never even begun.

But youth is foolish
The summer air fills with potential
A world of happiness trapped
In her smile.

Like any smile, hers hides a world of pain
Zis laugh smothers discontent
But both find pleasure in the moment
Of meeting.

If only ze
Had stuck to zis instincts
Ze could have avoided
So much anguish.

They duct taped a world
And made it their own
Exacerbating each other
Painful hindsight.

Ze wonders if ze had
Been too vulnerable
Perhaps, ze should not have been so honest
Should have kept zis heart locked away.

Because she hurt zim so much more
Than all the others who’d gone before
Not just because of timing
But because ze had trusted her.

Ze wanted to be vulnerable
With her, test the waters
After prior hurts, ze
Let her in.

Ze can’t do this anymore
Can’t deal with friends who hurt
And carve up zis soul
Grafitti zis skin with scars.

Ze has no more tolerance
The pain drowns zim
Ze’d rather erase all their days
Never meet her again.

Ze’d rather she just tell him straight
That she hates zim, wants nothing to do with zim
That she’d explain why
She hurt zim this way.

Ze doesn’t need to be hurt again
Ze hurts zimself enough
Others have hurt zim before
She doesn’t need to hurt zim again.

Why did she pretend to love zim?
Ze’d rather stay alone
Than be tricked into thinking that someone
Wanted to be zis friend.

And what did ze ever do to her?
To make her turn against zim
Ze doesn’t know, and perhaps it’s
Better that way.

But ze’s done writing messages
To never hear reply
Ze’s done wondering what ze did
To be driven into exile.

Ze doesn’t want to hear her name
Never again will ze
Even worry for a moment that she’s okay
Because ze needs to be selfish, else ze will die.

And, yes, perhaps it has nothing to do with zim
The silence could be purely coincidental
But when she ghosted zim from her life
It went beyond apathy to pure indifference.

And ze’s tired of feeling that pain
Tired of bleeding out on the balcony
Waiting for her to find zim worthy
To reenter her good graces.

What had ze done?
What had ze done to result in this?
All ze knows is that the rift isn’t zis
And that ze needs to let go – once and for all.

And so, ze stumbles away
Binding wounds that bleed to this day
Someday, ze will regain zis trust
But definitely not today.

Perhaps ze will finally
Find someone who actually cares
Will love zim, and will not
Cut zim up again.

But the world is meant to hurt
Ze accepts that ze will always be carved
By those who pretend to love
Hopefully next time, ze will see it coming.

Blinded by love
Ze never saw her
Blade sinking into
Zis heart.

Kite Dreams

He always wanted to fly a kite.

Darius imagined that either he would fly his kite, or let the string twine round his throat. Perhaps it was a physical euphemism for a subconscious connection to his plight.

Fly or die.

The beach stretches for miles to the right. The wild woods to the left. Breezes from the ocean swiftly float mist from the churning waves. The trees whisper their acquiescence in a lullaby of sorrow.

Darius rolls into the sand, combing through his fingers the granules of gold and silence. Flick back the sands of twenty years, and he was just a boy sprinting through the waves. Now, he is a man. A young man, struggling to find the meaning of life. The thread of destiny. What is there, in this life, for him?


Jonas strokes Darius’ cheek, a brush of sweet everlasting pain. A light kiss, the pressure of skin on skin.

Wrap it up and give it away. All the worry, all the concern. The decisions that every second demand…


Stumbling through the city lights, the stench of rot and filth permeates the air as Darius slides past the metal grates. Wrapped in fear and shame, the shivers of delicious pain floats above the struggles and display. His breath sucks in the poison and thinks it paradise.

He knows better now. But too late.

Jonas’ arms wrap around Darius’ shoulders. An embrace nearly claustrophobic now… He can’t seem to escape -but then, does he even want to? Smart moves need to be made, can he manage to place the proper bets?

Weeping, Darius slides to his knees, clasping Jonas’ knees in a grip so desperate, the denim fabric crinkles in the way only ironing can resolve. Shuddering sobs vibrate through his spine bowing in supplication -or perhaps…


Jonas stands silently, and somehow, that silence is worse than rejection. Worse than extracting organs from his ribcage and cracking his remaining bones despite turning to dust by the rejection. Filling the void never seemed so difficult as in those moments when Darius had felt needed, wanted, desired, determined-


Those days are gone, long gone. And now he has become the ‘other woman’.

Oh, how he will flay himself later. How he will self-flagellate.

Hold, then release.


Jonas strides away, the echo of his words ringing in Darius’ ears like the tremors of an approaching earthquake. Increasing aptitude, inherent longitude. And the sweet scent of decay and ozone taints the air.

Lightning has just killed his dreams.

Darius stands in the window. The wind and the storm blow detritus and trash up and down the streets. The remnants of his relationship blow across his mind.

The final resolution and last fantasy dances in the drifting heaps as they form, dissolve, and recongregate.

Just the cold glass, a rain-struck view, and his blatant anguish remain.



Coffee #17: Dreams and Crushes

“I’m infected with you. Pull the plug already. Tell me before I go, That you’re infected with me.”  ~Infected by Demon Hunter

No coffee in ages. No rest for the weary. I’m exhausted in mind, body, soul, heart, and spirit.

But triumphant. -Ish.

Pull up a chair, let’s talk about life. I can’t wait to share, so tell that barista to shake a tail feather!

Damn it, who put vodka in my hot chocolate? Barkeep-erista!!!

Continue reading Coffee #17: Dreams and Crushes

Pale White beaches


The sift of albino sand beneath his feet,
Chills toes in shoes and force sandals to haste retreat.
Insidious, they stuff themselves into every crevice.

He stares at the ocean and wonders
If his arms will ever hold more than silence,
If he will hear -something- aside from emptiness. Continue reading Pale White beaches

Day 10: Farewell


“Goodbye may seem forever/Farewell is like the end/ But in my heart’s a memory/ And there, you’ll always be” ~ Fox and the Hound (Disney movie)  Goodbye May Seem Forever

You said you’d always be there for me,
That you’d come when I called
Comfort me when I cried.

You promised that you’d never leave,
Swore we’d be here, together till
The end.

I never thought that your nobility
Would separate us, that the very
Traits that created virtue would

Continue reading Day 10: Farewell

Without her

Take me with you, within your mind;
Hold my hand
And tell me the rabbit hole has room for two

The unstable building…

The rattle of warning went unheard.
A warrior’s arrogance,
Seasoned with brute force and directness,
Ceased the hand of mercy.

He cried, weeping at the barrenness,
The null within his hollow arms;
Uncaring in his sorrow that the predator lurked,
He didn’t care, without her, he didn’t care.

What chains can hold a broken spirit?
A life already dead can not be resurrected.
And with what, can a mortal bargain a miracle?
Pure debts unpaid cannot be met with filth.

Yet, the victor gets his cut,
The tax, its due;
The lender what was borrowed,
The dog, its day.

Swallow back the sorrow and decay,
Clench the fist of futility;
And bury that which is precious yet lost,
Swear allegiance to the guardians of death and revenge.

When the eyes of grief behold only anguish,
When the only organ that beats is rage;
After the streams and rivers are choked with
Shattered husks and bodies.

What then? Oh mortal, when your chalice overflows,
And you pick the bones at your trestle;
What then?
When your arms are still shattered, empty.

What solace is conquest?
Can the sword extract the pain?
Does the slaughter of thousands
Erase your blood-slicked agony?

Tracing Paper

A flask with a task,
A gun in a glass.
Cold clink against your lips,
Click of drowning ice chips.

I could taste the fire in you;
Smoke, powder and subterfuge.
Lingering, the trace of steel
And iron grit beneath your wheel.

Crimson stark and glistening spray,
The echo of those words you deemed to say;
I could scream but mine will never reach,
I stare at the crucifix and find nothing to seek.

Time is the cruelest of masters,
Between moments, joy and disasters;
Regrets and broken promises left to shatter,
Stains to mar my developed character.

A moment in time between words of hate and love,
I could caress and kill without a murmur of protest from above;
Callous, let the cards of this kingdom fall,
Thy will be done and kill them all.

Why do the innocent suffer?
Why does she die after they cuff her?
Nails to the chalkboard of my soul,
Insane and awake, or eyes shut to the role

That we continue to play.
Oh, isolationist, you can’t escape this parlay;
Tattoo evil to your eyes, ears and mouth,
Bear the fruits of malcontent to the north and south.

Forsaken. Stricken. Broken. Ash.
Nothing but the loss, the fractured clash;
It’s about sawing off limbs just to be free,
It’s about finding myself, and being me.

Sometimes it’s redemption,
Despite condemnation;
Honesty without despair,
Something just and fair.

Unattainable, unachievable,
A world of fantasies,
Of kings and ramseys.

Not a shout, but a fingerprint,
A mark, a smudge, a bit of lint;
Nothing but the lonely heart,
Nothing but disappointment left to rip apart.

Wrap the noise and save the day,
Haste the end and burn the light away;
Put out the flame and embrace the night,
Kill the dove and let ravens take flight