Slippery path

A slippery path.

Some walk slowly,

Cautiously

Taking their  time.

Some accelerate

A little

Fall

Get up

And do it again.

Some glide through

Spreading their arms

Sliding fearlessly

Welcoming the wind.

But

They all eventually 

Reach the end 

Of that path. 

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My all.

My stomach is sore, 

As an internal gravity 

Is sucking my intestines, 

Twisting them into a knot. 

My heart is burning, 

Halting the flow of oxygen, 

As an ardent numbness 

Spread within my body. 

My mouth is dry, 

Thirsty for his lips, 

His tongue, and 

His neck just below his ear 

My mind is ticking 

Like an impatient clock 

Counting down the seconds 

Until we meet at midnight,

Aligned flawlessly.

Knock

I heard a knock on the door
At 3 in the bloody morning.
I looked through the hole,
He was right there standing.

Eyes swollen and red.
I could have sworn I saw a tear running.
His shirt so soaked and wet,
Probably from the rain that was pouring.

Then that tear was just a raindrop,
His eyes – he could’ve been high again.
I told him never to smoke and to stop,
He also told me he won’t cause any pain.

He’s knocking again now, gently and slow,
I can feel the desperation in his fists,
Trying to lift them as he deliver his blow,
I can see him saying something now, but all i can hear is a hiss.

Was he stuttering on the letter ‘ess’?
Or maybe he was just freezing cold?
I did hear it would be 0 degrees or a minus,
Either way, he’s not mine to take care off and to hold.

Another knock,
Another escaping word.
Should I unlock?
Or pretend that I haven’t heard?

I’m leaving, I’m giving my back to the door,
Two extra bangs and I freeze,
But it was too sudden that I fall on the floor.
I can hear his voice now, like a howling breeze.

Why is he here? What is he doing here?
I told him I don’t want to see him,
I told him to go away, to disappear,
And to let me hate him and to condemn.

When once I was fuelled with his love
I have found more passion in hatred.
Our fate that was held between the stars above,
Have faded away in despair and drifted.

So I’ll stay here on the ground,
I’ll remain untouched and unemotional,
Until you stand there scratching on your wounds,
Making them bleed like you’ve bled my mind and soul.

I’ll stay here on the ground,
I’ll remain as I turn my heart into stone,
Until I hear you choke like you’ve drowned,
Just as you’ve left me without air, all alone.

I’ll stay here, until you leave.
So please for fucks sake leave.
Because now it’s getting harder to breathe,
As I hear you cry and grieve.

Leave and find another heart to torment,
While I stay here on this lonely ground,
And time passes from the present,
And I finally start asking “when will my heart once again be found?”

I am a knight

I am a knight 

I wear an armour 

Treachery cannot cut through me 

 I am a knight 

I wear a helmet 

But I can see through your deception 

I am a knight 

 I hold a shield 

Protecting me from your hypocrisy 

 I am a knight 

I carry a sword 

To scare off those who get near me 

I am a woman 

Who became a knight 

To keep safe from this world’s cruelty.

Memory Of A Living Nightmare

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Through the dark I lightly tread, looking for my prey.

Wandering the country side keeping lusts at bay.

A distant sound not far away makes my feet take flight.

The smell of blood burns through my nose giving me delight.

The beating heart of something warm makes my instincts strong.

To quench my thirst, this growing burn, now won’t be too long.

An innocent victims tortured face seared into my mind.

A moment’s pain with long regrets leaves their life behind.

Tortured by my thoughts I had to flee the sight,

and continue to always be just a monster in the night.

M.C.

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Shadows

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Shadow

She mostly hangs out in the backyard
and comes around when there is a difference in the light –
when it is getting dark, when dawn is approaching,
amidst the cycle of day and night…
she appears then, making a mess of things.

“Who are you?” I ask her.
“Who are you?” she asks me.
“You must know who I am,” I reply, “because you follow me.”
“You must know who I am,” she says, “because you follow me.”
“Why are you out in the dark and cold?” I inquire.
“Why are you in the light and the warmth?” she asks.
“What do you want?” I question.
“What do you want?” she questions of me.
“You know what I want,” I state.
“You know what I want,” she repeats.

She lingers in corners, reminding me of who I don’t want to be.
She is feathery and lithe, sometimes hard to…

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