Witching hours

The crazed witch that harrowed us to insanity in the house where I grew up
Is slowly making her way back into my life
From a distance I see her, I feel her
Wending her way through overgrown jungle-garden weeds and fetid animal carcasses. Grave omen
I know that cackle, inimitable
As pronounced as hers decades ago
When she wore my father down, took his key, took his crown
We all sat watching, too scared to move.

And now they come over me nightly, clawing
Gnawing at my limbs from all four corners of my bed
Trying to tear my mind out, and drink my faint heart dry
Please call off your demons
Here is not your resolve
Father I promise,
I won’t let her in this time
As long as we all live.


Breath of past/To the last

Never made dealings in cert
The lone leaf weary, refusing to be taken by the wind
And make swirls beside all others
Remains shaking obstinately on concrete beside the gutter
You will not take me.

But you think I am indolent
It is greater pains to be down fighting your will
Than to be be dancing for you the way you want
But there is no love for those who go against you
We take not a thing to have nothing to return
If you don’t believe me
Look, here comes a boy now
To stake his youth, his cleanly play
An almost stout skip to
And the crisp leaf crunches underfoot
His polished schoolboy loafer
Oh so worth it
He’s better for it too, now
Lone leaf sighs
And then there is peace because it served a boy well
In this cold comfort hell.


Nothing I’ll do now is fair game
Passive gamer
Gross disdainer
I didnt stand a chance
Never could believe I made a believer out of you
Know this please
I have loved
With you, by you, because of you
For a time
I feared the fire that burned our nights
As it was explicable
Only by that thing otherwordly
Let the stars be
And the shield remains up
To my dismay
And to your modesty proper.


Come on over

Blood vegetable pastry, Rioja shards, Curt Smith now spins
Lone dinner party, ghosts come unannounced, shadows gatecrash.
I’m good fun. Life of the party is what they say.
Watch me bang my head against your grief
And dance with my disease.
Dagger of the mind.
I was gone not a moment ago but that’s not blood drawn from vein.
More likely I’m just getting my period
Because I just sobbed for Marling’s Blackberry Stone
Then I wept for Lethe
And soaked the bed.


Devil knows I am

Deathly afraid to stop knowing you
Fierce prize of a cub-like man. Once, no twice,
Let’s try thrice devoured for a bland, scarce dinner
For a barely chew and spit morsel.

Disaster after disaster will pass her
What pathetic life form
No refined pallet
But swills at every chance.

Let’s hold up now
Do I cease to beat myself black and blue?
And shiny but I do not shine
Playing better than my worst is harder than it sounds
You do not know a thing
I brushed off your sins
Before they even left your pretty little mouth
To say nothing of the ones
That barely impressed upon your chest
That stand neither a coaxing, nor trial
I am no judge-penitent
Assume no such title
I swam, no drowned in deep blue love
And hell only knows this preemptive defense
The heart so eager to quickly mend.


Nowhere Mare

I am not here
So I can never leave
Nor can I just remain
What I once breathed lies moribund
Where I once flourished stands a ghost town
When I smiled it was once true
And you, you always knew
Coloured me happy, taught me pride
For you are it, and it is you
Don’t you value my fight
About as harsh as I value my being

Where is my faith
Where is my agency
Where is my grace
Where is my spine
Now where is the crack
What’s up with this face
What is this fucking awful place.


Post mulled whine/Pixies sesh

Try and capture your visual moment by way of captioning with another’s captivating words? By one shredded soul kind enough to share to the herds? Oh back your sticky fingers away into a tight fist and knuckle down. Capitulate. To your own raw sentiments gone awry. Less imitation of processed one’s hard done by.




Boxing Day, as far as I can remember, has always been marked by the following: a serious OD of nostalgic pop. media , binge-eating and a sort of inevitable (welcome, almost) spot of the blues – for which the first two activities  are the only cure now. A general indoorlence (strictly indoor indolence) lies at the heart of my post Christmas days. And yes, everything about that last sentence says I must get out more…but Hey! (NP, The Pixies)


Levitate me



Thrust you back in

It’s a gutwrench, behold
When another tears open the hole in your side
Releases the you that you wanted to hide
Sluices out slowly, slimy battered innards
Thing of pitiful mirthlessness
Why won’t you set it free, let it leave
But no, you stuff this back into you
And wait for the next lovely person
To tell you about yourself

Knot your sides back up, tight
You’ll start to carry your despair
Flaunt it even
Like a hideous necklace
Do you think it’s an heirloom?
You consider your forbears
And swallow the tears
Because hope is now a distant memory
And your mind is perforated by the little guys
Who live there to bombard you
With all that is untrue
But they don’t let a thing escape
So have fun head case



With arms open wide
And mouth shut tight
Embracing the the deprecatory self
Igniting my loins for a tepid fuck all
Boil my blood and grind my teeth
For war after war leading to defeat
And no one to cleanse the red carnage and blue bodies
In my battlefield brain.

For I am selfish in the wrong way
Not gracefully so, you understand,
Not for me and mine
This is the truth every other truth detests
And I don’t know many truths
But that I prey on you so on me they prey.