Press StartSometimes I feel like throwingMore Like This
everything away and starting over
piece by piece:
it’d take a while, but who’s to say
that the finished mosaic
wouldn’t be worth the trouble?
I’m not an Artist; I only see with
my eyes and draw conclusions
from the little things I know,
yet I cling to beauty in its smallest form —
glasses free of smudges
and colourful pebbles.
I’m de-cluttering, organising, moving on,
freeing up space so that I have
the room to breathe. When you feel
asphyxiated, you wish that it was easy,
like the flowing sea.
So here’s to fresh beginnings, happy
endings, soulful middles. I’ve got my paper
and pen and will gather of the shards
of my masterpiece.
life lessonsa decadent king upon an agingMore Like This
throne sits stiffly; he brims with
vanity and will walk alone but
on his wrinkled fingers are hallowed
stones -- they will shine in the
earth and gleam among his bones.
yet i do not pity the
lonely king who has more
things than i shall ever
have; i swear that i
would relinquish my youth for
gold, stolen from dragon
hoards and rainbow streams;
it is worth every
coin and i believe
that pirates are
the wisest of
us all so
FootstepsThere are stories reserved for the hours succeeding midnight,More Like This
candlelit murmurs that volley through the darkness
and filter in through
the pores that form our skin.
I have read them, I have told them,
I have nestled them close as new born babes and now,
I shall sing the songs to you.
Once there was a child who longed to conquer everything:
the world, herself
and all the demons in between;
but she faltered and she stumbled and she split her knees –
she broke her ribcage open and her heart stopped
The girl begged for Mercy and was duly engulfed by
the embraces of those whom would
never let [her] go.
I edge closer to that superior version of me,
fragments fused in flawless unity, tessellating, interlacing,
forged from the fire and with the lightning strikes
that descend from the tangle of stars.
I am sewing up my scars with devotion, one-by-one,
I will show you
that paper cranes are more than the promise of a dream.
Dear Captain! Do you kno
mermaidIMore Like This
When I met you:
the ocean had spat you, violently,
onto a beach.
You lay with seaweed winding your hair
and your eyes, deep ink,
carved out a hole
in my chest.
My body buckled
and my heart fell into
the small gap that stretched between my feet;
So, I thought, this is admiration –
I soon learnt
that it was
You told me of ships that had set their heads
on the seabed. Schools of fish trailed through
cabins while you and your friends traded
shells on the deck. Trivial pastimes for your
mermaid gangs; I cut my hands on the scales
that flashed on your tail and you watched
(avidly) as red dropped onto the sand.
Take me with you!
I screamed – you made faces,
touched my skin with your talons,
grimaced and whispered,
Too smooth. You liked corals and
rocks that were as gnarled
and twisted as you.
I’d heard of a trade that had worked in reverse:
She was a fool.