Saturday, October 31, 2015


Silence rips through blackened hours, each tick of the clock tightening the knot in your stomach. The lump in your throat grows ‘til you’re barely able to breathe, and you sit frozen in this emptiness, the mind frantic, your fingers itching to rip open your skin so that the torment that has no identity and no description can leave, but your jaw clenches, locks in your words, muscles burn, tears can’t touch this blaze and you die a little bit, ashes floating into oblivion, the only sign of life, a racing pulse in your veins.

Friday, October 23, 2015

And so it begins...

His gaze wafts a spell that disturbs the parameters of her reality, an irrevocable shift to which she responds, receptive to the vibrations and heat that spills through open windows and doors to dance with her every sense, now alive with an electricity that sizzles as it is grounded. Her fingerprints brand his skin.

  Thirsty eyes follow a trail of sparkling colours across glistening flesh into a fire the depths of which as yet unexplored, and it sends her pulse racing, she’s obliged to find the elusive limit and he said he’d take her there.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

The Mist in my Mind

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You strike with dazzling precision, words, rough and abrasive, slice through my existence. You’re meant to strike my monsters, not me.

  Instead you feed my fears, replay my nightmares, suck the laughter from my lungs, to leave me naked and bruised on the cold, cracked floor.

  The windows are closing. Can you see the shutters drop into place *THuD!* Isolation. I have taken your voice, erased your authority and shifted into a realm of solitude and darkness, a place where you pass unnoticed and are incapable of inflicting any more harm.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

20th St. Cafe

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Free choice is in a far-away place, in a town without a name,
where, clouded in obscurity and the shadows of the mountain,
you can rinse your vision with each breath of the mist
that drifts through the valley to greet your soul,
you're electrified by its invisible touch.
 Then wash your wounds with the salted waters that rolls,
it's ancient words washing you closer to the edge of freedom,
so cease your struggle, don’t burn your spirit with tethers intended to tie you to the ground,
‘cause that’s just not the way to go for those who're meant to fly.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015


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 Every so often I get the urge to fall into a dark night. Loud music flowing through streets filled with crowds and lonely people is where I can lose myself in the chaos of merrymaking and alcohol, through streamers, confetti and illegal substances, a smorgasbord at a medieval feast.
 Court jesters call you in, their mesmerising flavour weaves a spell that anesthetises your monsters and a compelling intensity drives you into a night of recklessness, delivering your indulgences and you feed your cravings, you feed.
 It’s the midnight of my soul that reclaims possession when I see my self in the river into which I am staring, where I see every cruel secret and feel every haunted sin, and I wonder, knowing what I do, why my thoughts still dare traipse through these waters, that can utterly absorb every part me, if they so choose.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

The Calling

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There’s a devil on my shoulder whispering stuff into my ears, which my traitorous senses eagerly acknowledge.  The notes he strikes are clear, drawing images on my skin that reaches out in response as my instincts hone in on the object he has chosen as my prize.

In the abject world that pronounces it wrong to fly with your impulses, immerse yourself, deep and long into the heat that blazes inside, lick the flames of your wild and unbridled hunger high into the night and only turn back once you have slaked the thirst that can consume you, if you disregard its whisper for too long.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015


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My words don’t fear judgment, they do not need comprehension, and they are in no specific sequence and order, but in the way I choose to place them.
They creep from foggy forests and long forgotten kingdoms that have grown all the while from when I was a child. They reflect the streets I drive in, windows closed, doors locked. They urge me along the highway when feel-good, loud music and the depression of the accelerator seem to be inexplicably linked.
They are the laughter on your lips, the nightmares in my dreams, the freedom only rebellion and the prohibited can provide. They are me, born to hot summer nights and cold, dark winters. Words are my toys and my walls. Words are more than just words. Words are alive.
chEErs kAReN

Monday, October 5, 2015


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I want you bare. Every inch of you bare before me.
I want to see your pulse racing in the vein along your neck
and I want to hear your ragged breath calling my name.
 I want to know the words to the pictures that play off in your eyes
when you open long locked doors to let me in, just a little bit.
I want to seek every adventure that you dream about, day and night,
and I want to fall into the waves with you, like you did when you were nine.
 I want your naked body, every inch alongside mine,
and I need your naked soul, so I can fall and let go of the line.

Sunday, October 4, 2015

The World in Black and White

Feed me to the night, where I see more than the brightest sunlight can ever reveal.
Senses tingle when dusk strokes its purple breath across my skin
in anticipation of the waiting night that comforts,
its velvet black soothing ragged nerves into submission.

Moonlight washes through me,
separates meaning from the meaningless,
I aM the shadows.
Unobserved, scattered,
visible, only what matters,
cracks and blemishes that mar
reduced to what they are……
......insignificant details……
......nothing of consequence……

Friday, October 2, 2015

View from my Window

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 I’d rather stay behind the window, behind the glass that filters the clamour to an assailable level, and separates me from the madness that feeds poison into my veins, infiltrates my body without permission, and annexes my mind with images intended to stifle my imagination, stilt my freedom and pollute my thoughts with blocks that are meant to crumble, meant to collapse, so’s to create mindless pawns incapable of original thought, without hope of survival, from the onslaught of the monster that is speeding directly into our path.