5 Short Poems

(All written at different times but published on March 15th, 2005)


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Mediocrity feels safe, safe enough to hold insomnia,
Close to my chest, letting me hear my own quickening breath,
Letting others know how scared i am, unintentional signs,
Force me to turn my back on all that is sacred to me,
As i lie, but standing with the weight of all on my shoulders.

When everybody else's thoughts have entered my head,
And the consequent pressure causes my head to pain,
The only valve is that of parting skin, claret liquid,
"I did this to myself", "I am my own master", "I did this",
The tidal wave of guilt and remorse takes me under once more.

Sometimes in dream i am merely sleeping, and i'm scared,
Never naked, i cower from daylight and wish for an end,
An end to curses cast by relentless self-doubt,
And the chances that these signals are real. I cannot hope.
For i hold no answers to questions i can only respond to.

Even as the nib hits the leaf i am awashed with voices,
Voices that seem to come from myself, with criticism,
Of things and ideas that ither voices beg me to use,
Torn between myself and i, i feel my ribs cracking,
And my heart feels no force of which direction to follow.

Pen become the razor, paper become the skin,
So i can wrap myself in the safety again,
But without the malnourition of positive thought,
And the floods of insomnia that beg my mind,
To take myself by the throat, and drag me from this world.



A Ghost's Getaway

Invisible shackles gripping ankles tight,
Clenched fists and teeth help none,
This room was once this dark before,
Now empty souls have left.



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Alone in a room of three digits,
My ears are ringing with the sound of worried voices,
And i'm not sure if i came here for an ending,
Or maybe this is what ghosts do when they're scared.

Entwined with strands of nothing,
Startled by my own sudden movements,
I sat and sighed at your image with eyes closed,
And fell into dark peace in our breathing conversation.

I swear i cursed that room,
When i left with clear wrists and a clear mind,
I knew i could survive when the water didn't change,
And i let the cold steel slip from my fingers.

Today i burned cells,
I blistered skin to forget,
I branded my determination to win.

I know this is not the way i should go,
But please let me see enough of the path to learn,
That to find you i need to push myself aside.



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The ink runs dry as i etch promises into paper,
Pledges turned inwards as i bring my fists down,
I slept with eyes open, now i can't keep them closed,
As the figures form and sweep slowly through stone,
Chemicals point the way to balanced mediocrity,
Because the saints all fled when the rain began,
Now i'm left with nothing without shelter and knowledge to gain,
Of mechanics which power your trust-starved motives.

I am haunted by clouds which part as i turn,
And the pledges i made are as good as destroyed,
When your words accumulate forming the weapon,
To persuade self infliction of unwanted emotions.

Skin grazed from struggling,
I lie at your feet,
Palms together, i beg,
For the clouds to disappear.


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Breathed names, red patches,
Sore skin and removed jewellery,
In a room with empty picture frames,
And nooses leading trails to closed doors.

I smashed the floor, for difference,
Most come through windows,
I wanted southbound bereavemenet.

Empty table, open book, empty pages,
I waved you in, blank stare and collapse.
The end of silence.