Projected motions.
Propelling pain. Into closed boxes.
Your eyes. Shine with gratitude.
Silence. Waving at forgotten strangers.
Gathering all souvenirs,
To burn in the fireplace.



“Why is understanding, uncertain?”
Secrets kill the keepers eventually.
What you know will never be enough,
The ground beneath, comprises of misgivings.
“Take your pain and enlighten the compassionate”

You stand, with your back against the world.
“What are you afraid of?”
Count the morals with bitter solitude.
“Just forge innocence and smile”

You question to receive answers.
“Acceptance comes later”
Consult the skies.
“Nothing is everything?”
To the optimist, ask them to clarify.


Veins of fury. Pulsing. Jumping tactically.
Light blinds. Pounding echoes. Dully.
Gathering electrical charges. Excitement.
Fortunate conditions. Rattling commences.
Seven knifes threatening mortality.
With luck on autopilot. You wait.


Pigments Of Intensity

Black and white
Hazing to grey
Blurring to uncertainty
Contrasting within
Spasms of regret
Opposites are whole
One point connects
To another glitch
Beams of forgiving light
Spirals interwoven into
The palms of ancestors
Laughing commences
At empathetic stages
Through a looking glass
Creating webs of discontent
On the faces of the unsmiling
Complementary colours blend
Becoming translucent
In the process of eliminating
All their favourites



counting the petals, ashen with decisive matches,
hope resides in the hearts of the deceased, within glass caskets,

the toiling deafens, torches blind,
layers of bliss, burning skin off bones,

the hierarchy descends to importance, there are no in-betweens,

the dreams you imagine, comprise of the makeup of clowns,
painting death threats over the walls of your prison,
this isn’t a nightmare, it’s what you refuse to accept,

take a knife to cut the wires that hold you up, with the rest of humanity,
and while you’re at it, decapitate yourself,
your head will look divine on the mantelpiece.


Mutual Hallucinations

He walks. Wilted. With a walking stick.

She glides. Flawless. Without a head.

They meet,
At the shore,
Watching bodies,
Drift onto the sand,
At their scarred feet.

The faces look familiar.

They plan. Their life.
On that bright billboard.

They see children. They see a home.

They see a graveyard.
For the foetuses who will escape life.

He will strangle her when the sun goes down,
And she will pretend to be asleep.


Another Brick In The Wall

The architecture of your intelligence, is defective,

The legislators, penetrate your barricade,

Envision their agendas, with glassy eyes,

If you’re lucky they may allow you to destroy the world,
With the button they’ve constructed out of metal and rubber.

The crown is bloodstained, with errors of past rulings,
This time it will be different, and who’s to argue that it won’t?
Attached to the head of royalty, entwined into exterior brain cells,
Recognise the crowns ideals, congregate humbly to its pleasure.

You may complain, but only the nobodies hear you,
If you listen carefully, your screams will always echo back.


Thought Processes

Breathing adrenaline,
Through straws of fear.


Pain comes with knowledge.

Locking the doors,
You know,
Harbour monsters,
Better left,

Noises you imagine.


Holes into your skull.

Bargaining with the structures,
You’ve built,
To forge normality.

Forget everything.


And greet paranoia,
With a firm handshake.


The Confounding Satellite

A thousand glittering stars, join into cryptic shapes,
Declaring magnetism on the night dwellers,
Roaming the vacant streets, numb with suspicion,
The moon shines, enticing our eyes,
To wish upon its radiance, inducing endless dreaming,
Enlightenment exists within its iris,
The sun’s light arrives, elevating to an ascent of fame.

Routine swiftly exchanges loyalties.

All prisoners awake, dismissing their nightmares,
Counting their blessings with bitter indignation.

Whilst moulding their masks into something acceptable.


Artificial Innocence

Immune to all tantalising fingers, peeling skin,
Off infected robots. They admire their reflections.

Neglecting all naked ornaments,
Shedding tears of anger, at their arrangements.

Pointlessly counting, the escaping necrophiliac’s,
Coated in embarrassing fluids. Lusting with glazed eyes.
Jumping over barbed wire, to reside in children’s cemeteries.

The wind mourns for sanity.
While sanity mourns for the miserable hyenas,
Holding white flags.


Amber Tinted Disposition

Conducting small steps
With concrete resolve

Towards a light
Before the eclipse
Guides shadows

Darkness engulfs
A self moulded spark

Your weaning endurance
Knotted at the middle

I wait, you wait
For a blue moon

Dying blissfully
With every
Musical ripple


Heal me with poison,
My love


Existing Between The Lines

your lips release, black feathers,
the flow directed,
towards strangers, occupying lifts,
holding broken pieces, of their souls,
under invisible lenses,
with bloodstained hands.

the day, after today,
will bring the unexpected,
engraved inside, a basket full of promises,
beneath the magnolia petal.

the 17th window, on the 24th landing,
requires new locks.

everything looks comparable,
in the same, grey proportions.

never realising, never knowing,
the time’s bargaining, has loose ends,
and dead batteries.


Tarnished Marble

Gather stones from its feet,
A disintegrating statue,
Remains scattered on the ground,
Placed in the graveyard,
Where souls never compensate,
For occupying their enlightened states.

Once someone important,
Fortunate enough,
To have said something thoughtful,
At just the right time.

The name inscribed on the plinth,
Is unfamiliar to your uneducated eyes.

Nobody ever remembers,
Who philosophised the words,
The implication always,
creates its own mouth.


Cosmic Sphere

Her scars are self inflicted.
Humans aid the forming of deeper scars.
With their caring, their compassion.
Love isn’t a bandage you give to just anyone.
People earn love, others pretend they don’t need it.
Truth is, love is the only thing worth living for.

If you’re going to climb a tower,
Make sure that all the windows are in the right places.

Amnesiac suffering strangers would be a quaint replacement.
Not remembering, not know her soul.
With no recollection of her ghostly apparition.
Then she could smile, and repeat the same jokes.
Tell the same lies, attract the same psychopaths.

Listening to a foreign composition,
And not absorbing the notes.

Living in a broken world has a penalty.
Habitation is not an option,
If you refuse to provide a few dead skin cells.
The creator of our deteriorating health.
Is just as bad as the people who are immune to it.

Someone’s hidden the super glue,
And stolen all the change in the jukebox.

Without pain nothing is real.
Everything comprises of artificial euphoria.
Yes, you could choose to numb it.
But where’s the fun in that?

Hire a shovel from someone beautiful,
And find a patch of land right above the clouds.


A Fogged Existence

Hold your breath, for longer than is necessary.
Bodily functions, are there to be challenged.
Clasp worn puzzle pieces, with fragile hands.
With no plans of solving a series of problems.
Tomorrow is another day, and you have a lifetime.
Listening to the hum of the traffic, everything seems intricate.
The simple wheel now has a pyramid over it.
Swinging so high, you thought the sky would absorb you.
Jumping into puddles, without a care about the consequences.
You miss the days, when all friends needed were a hug.
Now they ask for a limb. To hang above their door.
Childhood was a phase you cannot recall.
You don’t remember evolving into something bigger.
A flash of occurrences, trouble your mind.
Trusting so freely. Loving the helpless.
Now, a predetermined death,
and a coffee refill are all you ask for.