When Vulnerability Calls

When Vulnerability Calls

The sense of muffled footsteps, then a knock at the door,

gentle but persistent like spring rain,

pots simmering on the stove.

You don’t go,

though your job is thirsty work

and my parched throat, drained of liquid sound

that now trickles through my veins, adding weight

to limbs pinned fast to frozen ground.

Your palm turns the handle, the familiar twist

I check three times before nightfall

in case the ghosts visit,

whispering sweet nothings through the walls.

You all seem the same, at first charming,

lighting flames to torch the halls,

taming the spirits to trust the floor

like they could melt my muscles malleable,

like their words could make me move,

escape the labyrinth for the chance of absolutes

to find you stoking an imaginary fire,

breathing in the smoke of untruths.

Memory Foam

Memory Foam

Uncertain who is holding the other

but one of us forgotten, foraging through our home in desperation to remember

what we did not know so cannot name

nor assure this body it is safe.

Blessed are we whose bravery guards the doors and windows

long past signs of danger, so fierce in our defence

it greets each demon as a stranger,

sounding alarms to activate emergency procedures

when the threat is but a spectre

with unfinished business.

Feeble and listless, these spirits will float

amongst the source of their affliction and our sickness

until they find in us a friend.

The Melting Point of Perception

The Melting Point of Perception

You can yell at me till spring turns to summer

turned to leaves turning yellow

but still these demons shout louder.

Here arrives as a long winter path paved with ice,

falling facts shatter on impact

across my frozen feet. It’s snowing glass

and their light rays bend blind eyes to a different reality;

one convinced the past is all that’s left of me.

I pinch the sun between two fingers,

beg for the burning present,

just one beam to heat each muscle,

aching to move.

Remedy for the Body Lost

Remedy for the Body Lost

Steady rhythm, pounding feet

and rising heart beat, caught in a battle of wills

with a maze of mental hills to climb

but covered in a sweat that is finally mine, from my skin,

a body I can again feel alive in through the out breath

where you left, no, where I left you

to starve on the side of a deserted road

with nowhere to escape my precious sunlight

and waiting a lifetime to be rescued.

Now it’s your turn to go through hell,

hear the bells ringing as your time has come

and I am running,

running with power,

power running through my blood.

Choking on Thin Ice

Choking on Thin Ice

The results are in;

I have seen their Instagrams and painted frames

and we are nine tenths not the same.

It will take all the strength I don’t have

to lift this sadness

off this second-rate skin cage,

I could never measure up to win a single round.

So I will count my losses in pounds

and my doubts as all the demons

who never leave my side,

but still I shall smile like I am fine.

Drink this whisky like it is poison

because I have developed a thirst for oblivion,

drowning in the curse of my own antipathy.