The song

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

Do you hear the sound of humanity rising through the clouds? It is not a prayer. It is the sound of life, the life that you gave… that you began. We raise the volume of our hearts in hope that you remember us. That you will continue to care. Do you hear it now as it washes over the mountains and ferments the hearts of man? It is the song, a wordless essence of care that we all share when we open ourselves to a chance. A chance to matter before we do not matter at all.


View original

Disapproving Signs

I think the universe is telling me

To let go of you

Every melody on the radio

The words on the back

Of a stranger’s T-shirt

The tears that cascade from the sky

When the clouds turn charcoal

The casual glimpse

Of a brunette boy on a brick street

And the black colour

Sewn around my neck.

I say screw the universe

I won’t listen to the radio anymore

And how can I read the back

Of a stranger’s T-shirt

When my eyes are trained on you?

And on the days the clouds pout gray

I have you,

A ray of peachy glow

And when raindrops fill my eyes

I feel a finger trail of yours

From my cheek bone to my chin

More comforting than change.

As for the black colour

Sewn around my neck,

I feel it in your grasp

Been ripped out

One stitch at a time

And despite the pain it brings

Every time my soul

Become a little less dark

I feel a little more free.

I need you.


We love the moon

Despite it’s craters

Despite it’s paleness

We love it’s luminous glow

It’s symbol of romance

And the way it fills the night air

With lust and mystery.

We love music

The suspension and resolution

The flow and patterns

Whether the lyrics are of joy

Or sadness.

So why is it

We can’t see each other

In the same light?

Despite his paleness

Despite her suspensions

Despite our craters

We are luminous

Glowing starlets,

Smiles and laughs

Touches and gestures

Symbols of a romance

Between minds

And not bodies.


I’ve never been one

To sit still

At least,

Not for long.

You’ve gotten me this far

Complacent for months on end;

Six to be exact.

My pet leviathan

Has fallen asleep

And the mad man

Has long since vacated

My doorstep.

Friends and family

Are all happy for me

And my outer parts, too.

The girl of change

Has fallen silent

And with her that’s ok.

After all,

She longed to be safe

And safe she remains.

But something’s bubbling now

The Damsel of The Inferno

Rises out of ashes,

A Phoenix of her own rebellion

Spreading wings

And tongue-flicked flames

Scratch me from the inside.

For now,

I’m silent,

But what happens

When the outer parts


All I can figure out

Is it’s time for change

For the girl of change

Once more.

Du Narcisse Exaucé

What makes a poet, anyways?
The drunken metaphors
That catch us off guard
In the sobriety of the day?
Or the sudden insights
Taking our sanity
In the pulsing night air
Cool against my sweating skin?
Is it secrets we cannot seem to keep
The dramatic lines
Formed from simple trifles
Minds twisting
At every turn?
Or maybe it’s just an ego
Self-proclaimed “poet”
Nothing more than locks of hair
Around a swollen head
Kinks and curls
With words and lines
Ink writhers
At my fingertips
A fiery tongue.
Tell me
Am I a poet?
Or a narcissistic teenager
Full of angst and impulses
With a few words
Tucked into the hem of her skirt.

But I Just Can’t Have You

Sometimes I look at him

Quick, stolen glances

I know I shouldn’t,

That I’m just burdening myself

But there’s no one

More intoxicating than


It’s funny, I think

How wrong you can be

Someone seems so perfect

On the surface

Next thing you know

What you thought to be


Became a twisted


What was it about him

That I had even


In the first place?

So I watch him now

And I recant the nights

He took rest from me

I was moonstruck

Believing I could alter him

Believing that he’d change

For a girl like


A Spasm Of Love And Hate

A perfect match
Edges so sharp
With a fit too close.
Minds almost touching
Bodies in unison
A homologous pair
With emotions on high.
Bitter hatred
Or indefinite affection,
Not a choice really
As much as destiny.
No choice
No voice
No control.
And even if there is a feeling
And even if it is requited
Is it real?
Can something take up space
Without bumps and defects?
Perfection will not
Can not
Override reality.
So if perfection
Is imaginary,
The truest of love
Must exist
Between mismatched lovers.



She was drowning

But the light at the end of the tunnel

Shown brighter than ever


Of the girl of change.

Now she glows

Bright with confidence

Fueled with ulterior motives.

The girl of change

Opens the door

Welcomes the madman

Dances with him

Lets the electricity flow through her

Knowing she deserves her criminal sentence.

Surviving on passion

Thriving on spontaneity

Starving for adventure

She’s alive again.

The leviathan

Fights beside her

Along with the music

Fast, beating, daring.

It’s good to be back.