#184 (white fog)


the soft embrace

of sinister substances

dampening my pain

and everything else

a sharp aching


a dull throb

barely noticeable

my body relieved

my liver is not

the path  slippery

the border to



always a choice

and I keep


how pain really feels

my mind lost in

a white fog

20th November



#182 (fins and freckles)

the girl without a name

waves of red hair blowing through

stark fall storms

maybe she tamed horses

in a former life

she used to date a loan shark

with bad breath

providing a safety blanket

spun of misery

it wasn’t hers

she didn’t care

the birds flew low

that day she dumped him

with the last of her delusions

rain on her pale skin

all tears left to salt the past

he kept her cat prisoner

she scratched his face real good

#181 (bird-shaped holes)

In my town

doves don’t cry

they die


bird-shaped holes


you could make a necklace

out of bird-shaped holes

but some might consider it

cruel and ugly


cruel and ugly

is that nobody cried

for any of them

and as I bead my tears

instead of bird-shaped holes

they call me pathetic


pathetic and weak

sometimes sad but never lonely

a feather on every window

three feathers on my shrine

a bird-shaped hole in my heart


14th November







#180 (the deep end)

the deep end

of my dreams

is where fears

grow to terrors

the landscape

of a former quiet night

turning into an evil fairground

bitterness and pain exchanging candy

while pride and prejudice are

taking the rollercoaster of doom


yet I’ll never hit

and have to spent an extra round

in the cabinet of broken mirrors

dissolving glass in the acid

of nasty rumours

adding some extra poison

sundae undelight

getting bitter, sip by sip

sunrise saves me

and as I’m stumbling

through last night’s sober debris*

I’m finding peace

a dusty wreath of lilies

crowning my head

14th November 2017
* borrowed from the lyrics 
to "Hello" by the Shakespear Sisters

the ones I left out

lines of unwritten poems

crowding my skull

flurrying like a promise

of  snowstorms to come

sometimes life breathes poetry

sometimes it takes my breath away

How I have  waited for

this velvet whisper

this slightest tug on my thoughts

folding paper boats

from all the pages

I left blank


mourning the ones I lost

cherishing the ones I found

writing the ones that count

11th November