Shards of glass, shattered, spattered,
treading like razor blades against the skin.
Piercing, raging, bleeding into numbness,
This time it's for real, but I digress.

My head is beating, screaming,
the pain, rips at the heart; eating the soul.
Tears are stinging, streaming
a cloak of madness strangling from within.

Cut the wounds from my body,
paint the walls with my blood.
I didn't ask to be here,
yet here I sit, drowning in the flood.

Enough is enough! Kiss off!

Are changing.
No longer green,
but with tinges of red
creeping inwards
towards the centre.
They're falling from the large tree
outside my apartment
and collecting in places
which call to me
to clean them up
and remove them
from the balcony.
They're reminding me
that the year is moving on
just as I am.
The changes in the seasons
are in synchronicity
with the changes in me.
With each season,
I'm learning more and more
and not just about myself.

Her poem:
I curse the shaft of Eros
Which has penetrated
Through the depth
Of my heart

Time spent kissing
The throat of my lover
Is wasted on Absence
The true God of Lovers

His poem:
I console the pain
In my soul with yet more pain
Reminding myself
That is the High One's
Dominion

My body is the realm
Of my beloved
The planet created
That love might be born

Ink veins running down her arms,
held together in sea side charms.
Two ladies dancing, skip over tide,
Legs akimbo, arm shaped suicide.

Snaking slowly into a necklace,
Colours run; ink holds tight her face.
Delicately seasoned butter skin,
Feather boa spreads out thin.

On shoulders, insect wings fly,
in glorious act of soaring high.
As yellow bubbles swim in tandem,
And features inked, for love’s abandon.

September through December
I will always remember

My Grandmother working so fast
To create all the goodies we had in the past

She poured out the flour and prepared the dough
Slow and steady she would go

The house was fragrant with smell of heavenly cake
Urging us to just sit and wait and not to take

The last to be baked took some time to make
But became our favorite cookies to take

Twice she baked then set them on a tray to cool
We watched carefully while kicking our stool

Two shadows walk side by side.one shadow is walking upright. Taller than me and really round.
Wow! It is really close, as if he's holding me ,nearby.

Who is this inkiness.
I feel scared that this sight is following me.
It looks kind of rough and tough.
It is right beside me.

I think I like this character.
It acts like it loves me.
It stays so close beside me.
I begin to realize this shadow is a part of me.

Ofttimes, I nearly find myself choking,
and frantically beck-kin ing
for immediate intervention in vain,
and my time is a piece of wax
falling on a termite
that's choking on the splinters...
analogous to swallowing a vitamin
that gets stuck in my throat
and the story of mein kampf
flashes before myopic eyes
of mine, and suddenly panic
ensues jump/kick starting an
immediate repentance of all
misdeeds perpetrated since...
birth, particularly when emerging
out chrysalis of boyhood to young

I stood on the Wonderland
green fields, as my body
developed spilled shadows

From a dazzling fireball
shackled in the spread
of the brochure blue sky.
My shape, chocking up
the morning sun, and the
wing chorus filling my
ear drums.

I went outside,
the sun at my back.
My shadow stood tall and strong.

I turned the corner,
and my shadow walked
by my side and at my feet.

As I walked home
at noontime, my shadow
was tired and squat from the day.

Build links
between people
and locations.
They connect me
with the past
and recalling what I used to be,
what I once was,
and who I am with.
Link ideas, thoughts, dreams and reality.
Are present
in my mind.
They are emotional,
in the essence of my soul,
give me a reason to be.
Communicate.
Construct,
and develop.
Without these bridges
I am aimless, lost
and rudderless.
I am no longer me.