digital friendships

They are beautiful, bright and reasonably happy.

They say they’re like me;
They have the same fears,
As vulnerable and fragile.
They have the same past.

Pain and anxiety.

Appearing to think
Just like I do.
To talk and reason
Just like I do.

They seem to have access
To that part of my soul,
Where security levels
Are as low as my spirits.
That place that decides
Whom to let in.

Whom to keep out.

Intellectual arrogance
Or low self-esteem?
Either way
They’re up there in the sky.
Flying, while I sit looking upwards
My neck and back weary,
On this cold lonely bench.



‘Cause they are beautiful, bright and reasonably happy.
A clique more exclusive than they’ll ever let on.



I want you to know who I am.
But the I that I want you to know
Is a fabricated aspiration
That’s fooling nobody
But the other hidden I.
Only barely concealed,
In my own grimy shadow.

And you.



Always compliant.

Love Laws

“That it really began in the days when the Love Laws were made. The laws that lay down who should be loved, and how.

And how much.”
― Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things


Where do I live?
Some place in my head.
Where am I from?
Some place in my head.

Where I make the rules.
Yet, I follow yours.
I hate your rules,
But I love to conform.

What is this love you speak of?
What is this simulation we’re living?
This staged, contrived,
Alluring enslavement?

When you’ve barely even started out,
And you know you’re doomed.
And you know how it ends,
Before you’ve met the plot.

It’s all been said before.
We come from different worlds.
Romanticized fodder for an activist’s dream.
And yet it feels like we’re pioneer lovers.

No one has loved before.
No one has had to choose.
No one has had to lose,
Or hide and pine.

The stoic cool head
Says leave. NOW.
The heart; green and insatiable,
Has its feet entrenched in quicksand.

“…who should be loved and how.”

my eternal flame

Stupid cliché!
Whipped up for big screens.
I love you, because you make me want
To be a better human being?

My pride couldn’t take it!


And then there was you.


Blunt. Ignited soul.
Made me believe
That we’re made of much more
Than just needs and desire.

Than flesh and blood.

I wouldn’t believe you
What could you know?
A sacrilegious hedonist,
Now holier than thou?

Judging me judging you.

A big city boy
With a big hippie beard.
Walking around with a big hippie head!

But then it is possible
You might have a clue
For you’ve always been true
To your big hippie heart.


You made me see,
That I am my own prisoner.
A perpetrator
Ambling about in victim’s clothing,

To fool my own dazed soul-
Oblivious of its powers.

I see now,
How being a free spirit
Means something different
Than being a mere creature.

We are evolution’s
Pièce de résistance.

That a pleasure seeker’s chase
Is only a red herring
If you’re doing it wrong.

Treating your body
Like someone else’s treat.

Like currency
To buy acceptance.

Like medication
To buy some time.

Like your own treacherous weapon
Against your decrepit self.


I got up. Dusted myself,
Learned the word “No”.

My actions are governed
By no one but myself.

This self that’s worth as much
As I want it to be.

This self that is mine,
To give and to keep.

Only when my spirit approves.


I unclenched my fist,
Let my baggage fall
All the way down till I could see it no more.


You gave me a sword.
And I hadn’t known
A more profound happiness,
Till after I’d used it
To stab my demon
In his fire-breathing heart.
To wake up my soul,
Asleep for years.
Trapped in a castle,
Overgrown with weeds.
Brought back to consciousness
With love’s first kiss.


I didn’t ask, but you gave.
Knowing full well, I have no means to repay.
Is this how gods are made?


I watch you this morning,
Lighting our cigarette
I flinch as I catch that look in your eye.
Your spirit reflected in the flickering flame,

Of that lighter.

That old one we’ve used
And used and used.

Fading but fighting.
The sacrificial fluid-
A suicide bomber,
Sparing no effort;

To trigger a spark,
To lighten your darkness.

Your earnest clicking against the weak city breeze.
The winner takes it all
In this drawn out round.
Your face – only vaguely familiar.
Bits of a king I used to know,
Whose light once shone as bright as the sun.


My newfound joy
Won’t last forever.
If only I could just
Return the favour.
But now there is nothing
I can do for you.

For gods will be gods
And mortals mere mortals.


of wishes and magic

Blow that candle on your cake.
Close your eyes despite yourself.
The back of your hand, bogged down by the weight
of an eyelash lost and wishful.

Your coin falls nervous
Into the well,
The depth a likeness
of your endless blackness.

Star light star bright,
A dandelion pure and white.
Too small for world peace, too ashamed for money.
Most of all, too proud for love.

A semblance of normalcy
Your most urgent appeal.

You detest their simplicity,
These people around you.
You smirk at their stupidity,
Then choke on your arrogance.

Sour grapes won’t go down easy.

Wanting to die.
Painlessly, quickly.
Then hoping to live.
Peaceful and happy.

Pick half full and join the Normals.
You tap her shoulder and venture a smile.
But Hope doesn’t know you –
It’s been a long while.


I hope and I wish,
Ardently and wholly,
For a wish that would end wishful thinking entirely.



Wake up from what seemed
So much like my own
Vivid rushed reality,
To a sneaky thought of you.

Look at my phone,
I know it’s not you.
I convince myself
I’m not thinking of you.

Self-induced REM – eyes squeezed shut,
Detaining images, forcing this moment;
To last a little longer, pass a little slower.
To picture your hair and your eyes,
Your pride and your smile.

Those hands that are poetry.
Your voice and your cruelty.
And I convince myself
I don’t love you at all.


Real life’s a-calling;
Shower and sustenance.
All the while conscious,
you’re not on my mind.

Not haunting me
With that disdainful eye.
Those excruciating words
Don’t wreck and crucify.

Your casting me away is not judicial murder.
Your pity is not
My guilty pleasure.
I can do without you
And your arrogant belittling.

And then…

I don’t feel my insides lurch
When that familiar buzzing begins,
And I see your name flash in my palm –
Hello, how are you, I’ll see you later.


The sun is up.
I walk out the door.
I’ve convinced myself
You’re the only thing I need.


I trusted you.
They said I was young,
They said I was special.
Said I had promise,
Untapped potential.
You saw something else.
You saw the darkness.
The beasts and the serpents,
That lurked in my shadow.
I told you to leave,
I told you I couldn’t.
Disquiet and circumvention
Are all I have to give.
Petitions. Arguments. Evidence.
A vow.
Determined, you stayed.
Uncertain, I swayed.
Arms and voices,
Raised then broken.
We can fix this. We can fix this.
Bare feet among shards.
Drip, drop, drip, drop.
Tears here, blood there.
Hearts like glass.
Souls like rocks.
Love – a mystery,
An elaborate hoax.
I trusted you.
You betrayed me.
Betrayed, deceived,
Stripped bare my soul.
Lamb to the slaughter,
Hoodwinked and accused.
A monster, you said.
A coward, they said.
Voiceless and braindead,
I’m sorry, I said.

You are no Judas.
I betrayed me.

soul container

Looking down;
Cheaply painted toes,
The curl betraying apprehension.
Calloused heels have long accepted
Their lowly place in the world.


Scarred shins, sore knees.
Tired from carrying the weight of Shame.
Stomach painfully aware of its emptiness.
Hope and loss. Butterflies and knots.
Breasts. Heads hung in embarrassment.


Thirty years of neglect and hate.


Desperate scratch marks and blood stains left
Around the empty hole where a heart used to live.
A bloody trail viciously revealing
Its failed escape. How far can you run?
You now sit precarious on a sleeve.


Unwanted and exposed,
Available to abuse.
Pale fingers and palms
Hold tightly the ends,
Trying in vain to hide you.


Thirty years of pain and irreverence.


Shoulders upright – fake bravado,
Knows Atlas’ pain, has shrugged aplenty.
Putting on a show as they ceremoniously hold
The crown of a remorseful monarch.
The mind discerning – quiet and clinical.


Your body is a temple, they said.
A feeble body weakens the mind.
It is your only home.
This vessel that holds your most precious possession,
You have shunned. Left it out to rot.


Thirty years.



The water stings.

Slowly soaking hair and brain.
Flowing down to places
you want to forget.
Hot. Cold.
Burn. Burn.
The whirlpool forming at your feet
looks impossibly clear.
No sign of the muck
You brought in, so hopeful.
So it doesn’t wash away guilt?!
You should have known, Silly.

You should have known.

know thy weakness

Humans are frail.
Rapt in weakness.
Their need for validation
Their pathetic vulnerability.

So easy to hate.
The world,
Its people,

When will all your self-awareness turn
Into the good it’s meant to be?

When you allow it.

Allow it to change you.
Your mind,
Your spirit,
Your soul.

Change You. Kill You.
Your mind,
Your spirit,
Your soul.

Make you one among them.
The Normals.
The Worldly.
The Wise.

A drone –
But a drone with a smile.

A drone that sleeps well.
No guilt,
No darkness.
No dangerously dangerous