Will I Understand?

If love is shown in red,
Then why do my eyes burn,
Why do they melt, when I see it,
Why is LOVE shown as I see anger?
As a tormenting pain inside,
Contorting, twisting, crippling,
Making me hate all that everyone sees as love.
Why is love shown as the color that induces death?
The color that drew an angel away.
The color that drew the last part,
Of my first love away?
How is love red when red stops?
It halts, intrudes with it's imposed rules,
Controlling the world as it moves.
Why is love red?

Betrothed to Betrayal

In an Ivory gown, I waltz,
To meet my maker,
Or face my ultimate breaker.
In the eyes of all those I trust,
I see a conspiring plan,
To share, universally, the feelings,
In their new related form,
That originally came from my heart.
I vow to be there,
In sickness and in health,
And betroth myself to life,
Imprisonment by betrayal,
Regardless of my feelings,
Without notice of my honesty,
I marry myself to be hated,
Suspected by my spouse,
Harmed by my home bird.
Betrothed to my Betrayal.

The End 15-8-15

We enter the room.
Car running in the center,
Fuel tank pierced,
Petrol dripping.
He sits in the driver’s seat,
You sit next to him.
I find a match,
A small piece of wood
And with the first
I light the second.
Wood, unlit end first
Pushed under the car.
I get in the backseat.
I cry, I'm scared.
You look back.
You nod.
Smoke. No flames.
No noise.
No end.


We enter the room.
Car running in the center,
Fuel take pierced,
Petrol dripping.
You take my hand
Comforting my cries.
I nod.
He sits in the driver’s seat.
You sit in the passenger’s seat.
I light a plank of wood,
I place it below the car.
I sit in the backseat.
I wait and wait.
I'm crying and crying.
You reach back.
You give me your hand.
You tell me you're sure,
That you'll be there,
You'll hold my hand to the end.
That you've seen it,
The cruelty of the world,
That it's enough.
We wait.
No smoke, no fire.
No end.


We enter the room.
Car running in the center,
Fuel tank pierced,
Petrol dripping.
You hold me close.
Lead me to the backseat.
I sit, crying and broken.
You sit beside me,
Warm, comforting.
You hold me while the pain
Escapes through the silent,
Distraught, and shattered sobs.
He used the wood,
To trail,
Line,
Trace.
The petrol, his instrument,
The final piece of art.
He lights the end.
He walks to the car.
He sits in the driver’s seat.
You stroke my hair as you watch
Flames dancing in smaller circles
That stop. Too Early.
No continuance.
No End.


We enter the room.
Car running in the center,
Fuel tank pierced.
Petrol dripping.
You tell me it's okay.
I listen.
He takes my hand.
He leads me forward.
He knows what comes after.
You sit in the driver’s seat.
He and I trail the petrol.
One straight line.
We light the end.
He sits in the backseat.
I sit next to him.
Calm, collected.
You say nothing.
You mean nothing.
You show nothing.
He holds me in an embrace.
Kisses the top of my head.
Tightens his grip around me.
I know he loves me.
You mean nothing in your silence.
I look at you,
Silently beg for a word,
A murmur, a mumble.
I ask for your hand.
You move.
​You open the door.
I beg you with my tears.
You put your leg out.
I crumple into him.
You leave the car.
His grip holds me.
I call out your name.
He comforts me.
You walk away.
He wipes every tear.
You pause once.
I look up.
You walk on.
He pulls me closer.
You leave the room.
The fire spreads,
Engulfs - Consumes.
You close the door.
You regret.

The car explodes.
The flames dominate.
He guides me on.
He knows this place.
He tells me he missed me.
I grip his hand.
This is it.
The End.

Time to Stop Talking

Sometimes I need to,
Sometimes I can't say,
All of the most important things.
But I think that now,
It's time to stop talking.
I need not to run my mouth,
I need not to say all those things,
Because soon,
You'll start to hate me,
If you don't already,
And if you do already,
That's justified
But I think that now,
It's time to stop talking.

Tell Me

You listen,
Do words make sense?
Does it put you at ease?
Do you enjoy it?
Whose pain are you treating?
Do you hurt any less?
Does it help?
Is your mind not burning?
Does your head not spin?
Do you need confessions?
Does it make you thrive?
I need to know,
Does that keep you alive?
Would you share all your secrets?
Or at least tell me?
Or would you just listen?
Listen to my pain, and add it to yours?
Or maybe you don't?
Are you really listening?
Do you realise I'm talking?
Do you hear those painful things?
Do you hear what she is saying?
Do you realise she's broken?
Do you see she's shattered?
Are your eyes not open?
Can't you tell it's deeper?
That something's missing?
A meaning behind pain?
Or maybe not.

Don’t Hate Me

My Darling,
          Please don't hate me,
          Blame my mind, not me,
          I want life, please,
          My emotions don't understand.

My Love,
          Don't listen to the past,
          I know I nearly broke the promise,
          But not this time.
          I won't break the skin.

My Darling,
          As empty as I feel,
          I won't, I couldn't, I can't,
          No matter how much,
          I want to see you again.

My Love,
          It dances in my mind,
          Now and again. But no!
          Not a blade, or a pill,
          Not a jump, or a rope.

My Darling,
          I won't leave here early,
          I'll let you collect me,
          When my time is right,
          To return to your arms.

My Love,
          But I want to so badly,
          Please don't hate me,
          It's just a desire,
          I'll fend it off.

My Darling,
          I won't do it,
          I'll keep the promise,
          I'll wait.
          Don't hate me.

Why Does it Hurt?

Why does it hurt to love you so much?
And know my love is not returned.
It's like being the beggar in a gallery,
Falling for a painting,
Knowing it will never be a centre-piece
In the hallway.

Why does it hurt to love you so much?
Knowing it's just my heart.
To see you in pain burns my soul,
Because you have no obligation to it,
No cause or reason, it feeds desire,
To protect, to comfort, to hold.

Why does it hurt to love you so much?
Even if I'm just another person.
No matter how much I think I know,
I will never be let it.
You torture yourself as I watch,
In this twisted horror picture show.

Why does it hurt to love you so much?
Yet I swear you just want my pain.
It is your desire to feel normal,
You listen, purely to know you're not alone.
Not to fully care I know.

Why does it hurt to love you so much?
To have had you in my arms,
To have been in your arms,
To have felt that content,
In myself, in my company. And yet,
Know it will never be mine