You are the essence of fairytales

The warmth we are taught to crave

A haven of safety,

Of wholeness and life in its fullest.


But your happily ever after is nothing but a joke…


You are the darkness of nightmares incarnate

The inferno that has left me burnt

A cursed storm, ransacked me you have

And delivered me to my greatest hurt.


You are not paradise

You are not divine

You are the furthest from these both.

You are pandemonium,

Demon entrenched

And damned be your name.


Love is not patient.

Love is not kind.

Love defiles trust.

I wish I had never called you mine.


With the same mouth
That once kissed me,
You now use against me.

Incantations of bitterness,
You fervently spit.
Wishing my downfall.

Demonized me, you have.
Painted me a ghoul
And smeared dirt upon my name.

Once a sworn protector,
Converted and now rendered,
There you stand, my greatest aggressor.

Insidious Bitch

Her hands clench my throat
My breath choked under her cold apathetic grip
My heart aching from each dreaded beat

Her vice constricts my chest
Making the air thin
But the feeling of doom thick

Her voice insidiously rings in my head
She whispers threats
Promising, commanding and precipitating ruin

Her presence guts me.
Seized, plundered and spilt out
All that I am now debilitated to a bleeding and battered wreck.

I am hers
And she is mine.
That poisonous destructive fucking bitch.

Making a ‘Living’

We exit the train
Methodically and in order
The working heels striking the ground
Drumming away a chorus of forced formality

Expressionless and void
In the company of many
Yet isolated and singular
Fading is our essence of community

Is this the great tempo of life?
Losing ourselves to sustain ourselves
Only united in one similarity
Our submission to this economical machinery

This is Me

A chance to recreate

An introduction where I will defy your preconceptions

Or rather, your misconceptions

No longer will I comply with your blurbs for my life

Blurbs which did not capture me

Not in interest

Or in personality

I’m the one with the restart

I’m the one with the pen

It’s not a new me,

This is me.

This is my tale.

And this is my poetic license.

Photo: Writing process shot. It was a napkin scribbling kind of day.

An Inkling

How sweet a taste

A glimpse, a flash

The first lifting of a burden

A burden never mine to carry


For years you restrained me

Forced me into a shell too small

You bound me so tight

I felt all breath leave


You made me your puppet

Enslaved my mind, heart and spirit

Your ropes tort with pressure

Cutting deep into anxiety


But here I stand, now vindicated

No longer yours to control

No more bending of will

Today is my deliverance


I was never meant to be a contortionist

With the purpose of performance

I am who I am

And that is enough


The shell has cracked

The ropes, burnt

I see it coming now

Here comes the dawn


How sweet a taste

A glimpse, a flash

The first inkling of freedom

A freedom now mine to have

Your thoughts. My body.

It courses through my body.
Tell-tale red casting itself across my cheeks;
Tears pooling;
Threatening to expose the depth of your cut.

You truly have no idea.
No idea the weight of your comment.
Weight. Oops…
What a poor choice in word.
But is that not the subject matter?

You deposit your thoughts
With no consideration.
For you, you will never hear them again.
As for me?
You may as well follow me, reciting them.

Your words haunt me,
Plague me even.
Cutting deeper with every recollection,

And in every reflection.
Fat. Fat. Fat…


That is all I hear.
That is all I see.
That is all I feel.
That is all I am.