Her face aglow,
she performs her rite
gracefully, like the snow
in the silver lunar light;
deathly hair, startling eyes,
white night purity, necromancing-
nude porcelain skin,
whispers of sin.
knowledge sought after
flirting with disaster
secrets held in astral shells
uttered in diffuse spells
the occult- her only master.
You step out of the darkness
into the light,
then into the darkness again
carrying sapphire light within you-
your inner compass, your greatest strength
Carefree, out of the corner of your eye
you see shadows shy away from your
you are an unlikely saviour
awakened in serendipity-
you give them freedom to either spend their existence
haunting or let your light guide them and peel
the darkness without pain
Unencumbered by shadows,
you embrace them whilst
your mind renews itself,
white magic, healing witch, infinite soul
You walk towards locked doors
and pass through them effortlessly
the key is your charming,
your obstinate nature makes sure
your dreams live on
and turn into phantoms haunting
new, greater dreams.
Face to face
Face to face:
staring into each other;
seeing your reflection
in the dark lake of her iris.
Hand on hand,
not like those bible verses preach-
no, praying to the abyss,
hoping it won’t swallow you whole;
understanding at first the irony
and then the futility
of your act.
The abyss has black, wet lips,
kissing you to compensate
for chewing pieces of your soul
and spitting them out
because they were bittersweet.
Now they are soaked, slippery,
no longer sticking either in or to the puzzle,
which is why you don’t make sense
except in the silver,
face to face,
where your soul is pure, whole,
and wholly unleashed.
The vanishing words,
the vanishing images,
of selves like autumn leaves;
of withered lives on wrinkled paper,
dust off the treasure chest
in the desert, next to a snake
regenerating its skin
your porcelain appearance melting into
does the new verse annihilate
or build you?
perhaps it is the fading portrait
either that, or the smile in between
either that, or the infinite encounters
with the ineffable
You write, you cross out
another identity and over to
I gather tokens of death
in appearance fragile-
with thorns hidden
A hand reaches out…
on thin skin.
you breathe it in.
Funeral words carved
in marble skin-
you listen blindly
as they inhale life.
Butterflies spiralled in silver –
petals sleeping on the floor
Eternally moved, I quiver-
Tenderly pressed against the door.
Smell of new and
Life as art for art’s sake.
Neon light flickers as you blink
infected by dizziness.
No longer tone-deaf to the harmonies
of your own soul,
you don’t shrink for someone else to grow.
An invisible corpse in the plastic bag
winks at you from the corner-
madness, it grows
Lifeless but intense:
you don’t pray for another,
you prey for yourself.
Of the senses
soft as velvet,
sad as lace,
sweet and intoxicating
as your scent sliding down my spine.
The fragrant city
Through the alleys,
scents of old seasons
scatter in the urban rain.
Guided by our roots,
the long-withered dreams of being
seem to be reborn from pain.
gently wrapped in white
a cure for the night.
A silhouette merging with the unknown-
all that is left is your breath in the cold air
as you exhale in slow motion
I speak in shadows
you respond with spectres of light,
haunting every word-
making sense of it all;
I choose to live in the now,
but if you whisper in my ear
I will take decades to figure out
why you chose to disappear
when I ran down the hallway-
gargoyles staring from above-
for a second I thought I could hear
another set of footsteps
under a different weight
even after I accepted your longing
for the other world.
The statues were grotesque,
threatening, demon-like in thunder and lightning,
and still, I hoped that hallway would never end
just so I could hear the sounds again and again
and convince myself they weren’t merely
echoes of my footsteps into the unknown.
Two bodies wrapped in an embrace
in a tomb of glitter and frost-
the blood lingers while they kiss,
then it pours gently down the legs
of the cradle surrounded by mist.
The lake of tears reflects the moon of sorrow-
trembling, fluid, unpredictable;
their red eyes locked, unblinking,
while eternity replaces the morrow.
and then I hate
my fire and my demons,
just before I see your celestial smile,
you icy devil
bringing me back to life,
to an illusion of life
which I knowingly accept as truth.
My complicity – dispersed in time
until it is forgotten
The world – no longer in black and white
I am only ashes.
I taste the blood of dehydrated lips,
admire the inadequately plucked eyebrows
above vapid black circles surrounded by
red on translucent white.
Dark hair, itchy like rope
against my neck,
frozen hands trembling,
features particularly thin:
I forgot how to live,
yet I laugh at my own sin.
Quiet and frozen:
A reflection approaches
within the glass
I seek meaning
in a meaningless palace
of empty eyes and half-hearted smiles.
Statues of philosophers vis-à-vis-
From expresionless to sad,
their face changes mood:
nor pleasure felt-
My mindless mind projects
filling a void of thought and
Fragrant relics of the heart
crown you as the faerie queen over
the land of forgotten whims
with a rose delicately smothered in your hands
and pearls hanging from your pale thin neck
A down-to-earth Snow White is what I see in you
when all that matters is how you see yourself.
When the past smells like dust,
its enchantment is upon you no more –
The future glows in sight
on the island of apples
where you dwell feasting upon eternity
and upon everything born out of a lavish ground.
everything – corporeal and incorporeal gathers up
and you find yourself among nymphs, dryads, witches,
heroes, mad men of both virtues and vices,
unearthly fruits and singing crystals,
air and waters sprinkled with glitter,
and a crystalline laughter travelling with the wind.
Memories of snowdrops
The burning snowdrop-scented incense
smells like childhood dreams
It smells like us
in a cornfield
or in our garden
laughing and uncaring
just before I went on the hill
with my kite
You lay on the river shore
Half awake and spellbound
by the water flowing
echoing the flow of blood,
mirroring the flow of time.
your mind and body
into acting strangely-
The past creeps up and there you are:
Standing still in the infinite white space
of children unborn.
You and I
I miss the scent
of your whispering skin
when you tell me
how I can be both
in my head.
Distracted by my flame,
I spilled some water in
that little cavity
between you and me.
Your presence turned it into ice,
I stepped towards you
and broke my knee.
As below, so above
This place is a crypt and, while you’re all waiting
to go on a long journey,
you admire the countless tiles
bearing the scars of the bodies in front of them-
their motionless, diffuse shadows
never making you wonder what they hide
for, as you see their faces, you can tell
you’re all made of the same substance
and that’s all that seems to matter down there,
on the Underground platform.
No mystery in your flesh and bones,
no light at the end of the tunnel,
no heaven to dream of inside the collective tomb,
you are in this together.
You were polarising
in so many ways,
your vibe confused the hell out of me
and the ambivalence made me
I met you at a time when
I didn’t know the best things in life
are somewhat polarising,
they tend to be transformative,
with their stimulating powers
I liked transparency, I still do,
but you had authenticity,
your polarising effect was
not a play, not intentional and
definitely not ill-intentioned
it was pure and unfiltered and yet,
despite your genuine madness,
a friendship couldn’t survive
Now it’s far too late,
And, albeit more mature than back then and
still sticking to openly blissful patterns,
I’m also tinged with jadedness
in the human relations sector
My shadow on your wall, crumbling
as you wake up from the shivers
entering you like poison-
slowly, from your mouth
passing through your stomach and
limbs in silence,
then back to the skull
By the moon, my black hair
is cast behind you,
Your illness now caught in my spider web.
DM, 2014-2019. Not in chronological order.