-
Flowers & tentacles
I haven’t written for this blog in quite a long while, although I have been chipping away at a few drafts; slowly, painfully. The mould and rot will lead the way was the last post I published, and it seems that I did manage to follow the path of mouldy patches to reunite with the…
-
The mould and rot will lead the way.
I could not have imagined the extent to which dreams decay. The dreams that left, the present that ran away with the future; all is past. A silent death, a million trees falling in the forest, a world deprived of oxygen– Not a sound. Not a wave. Nobody moved but me. My favourite snack now…
-
Prunelle ♥
Une à une les étoiles abandonnent le ciel. La lumière mensongère bientôt deviendra poussière, Rien n’est plus sûr que le futur daté d’hier Et la promesse de l’obscurité éternelle. Je compte sur mes doigts les dernières étincelles, Et contre le froid, la lutte sempiternelle, Je protège derrière moi des vestiges, des récits, Et je chante…
-
A stranger’s attic | a poem
There is a room, so dark and lonely, One I’ve never been or even seen. The way up to it, safely concealed, Guarded by the phantom in my dreams. There in the room, so dark, so lonely, Sit all my dreams, my heart, my family; Gathering dust, feeding the misery. Yet it’s no more where…
-
A brand new everything.
Sometimes, in order to move forward, you have to let go of things that are not finished, things that never got to tell their whole story, things that never even got to just “be”… Sometimes, in order to become, you have to come undone. Torn to pieces; reduced to ashes. It’s all so sad. To…
-
The Sad Butterflies | poem
What isn’t real cannot hurt meBut nothing is less real than RealityYet each day it destroys me,Each day it destroys me… Nothing feels as real as this misery ;I can feel them buzzing inside of meWith wings made of painful memories,Wings pulled by rotten strings. Oh, here they come, the sad butterflies,Waking up the storms…
-
I am the lost and found. | whispered ramblings
Sometimes, it takes a lot of getting lost before you can find yourself exactly where you are supposed to be. Growing up, I always felt out of place. Like, somehow, in spite of Its all-seeing all-knowing eye, the Universe had made a mistake and planted my soul in the wrong time & place. Some nights,…
…where Time is merciless and Light feeds darkness.
The Dawn Chorus… 