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Oct 30, 2011

A Headache

Her head is seconds away from exploding.
There's a perilous pressure pushing persuasively
On her fragile cranium, eating up all the space inside
Flooding every unoccupied air bubble
With it's distastefully pressurizing presence;
There's a throbbing again her eye,
A pulsating, persistent push
That's threatened to prick her tear ducts
Until she cries.

And there's the truth, looming like a ghost
Over her shoulder, intimidating and irritable;
Her tears could draw away the pain
Like an ice pack relieves a fervent fever.
But if she cries, she knows
Her heart will collapse upon itself 
Like a house with foundations that were never stable.
And so the eternal dilemma -
Pain for pain,
There is never relief.

There is a drought somewhere, 
And frail bodies are walking helplessly under the sun,
Willpower and survival skills being their unfortunate saviour.
There is a girl who's trust in safety
Has been violated due to crimes inflicted upon her.
There is an innocent, wide eyed child
Struggling for breath under the rubble and heavy burden of an earthquake.

But when your own mind becomes a pressure cooker
Fed with the distasteful pressures of society,
And it is as if only a drill through the brain
Or a violent display of instability
Could relieve the throbbing ache.
Here is a pain more potent.

Oct 16, 2011

Double Standards

Here is to all the glassy eyes
That shone like glass under ultraviolet light;
Reflecting back shocking blues of hope
And misguided lasers of ruby red romance
Because your face radiated moonlit paleness
That grasped at their innocence and naivete.
Excited breaths like fine tendrils singing of fragility;
You stared.
I stared.
Like they all had stared.
Their hearts must have been racehorses
Fuelled by the same concentration of adrenaline
That I remember coursing through my own veins.
Their smiles must have been just as lost
As mine were when our lips met.
They must have been just as easily fooled
As I was.

Here's to all the glassy eyes
That were dazzled by the mask of wood
Bearing handsome likeness;
Behind which lies an ugly, festering heart
Burnt raw.
Grotesquely malformed.

Oct 11, 2011


Like a tissue,
Lying used
Lost on your messy table,
Out of its dainty box
Now hidden under in the wastepaper bin.

Here I was
That for the first time
Miracles were blossoming.
And yet,
Here you were
Revelling in the illusion
That hung like curtains from my eyes.

I watch you from the corners of tables,
From the tops of fans,
From behind the pillars like a lost soul-
I watch you use others
Like the poor tissue that resembles me.


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