deep in my mind

deep in my mind I am all alone.
in the end it doesn’t matter
what validation I get from others
how much they all liked me
what they said about me
it doesn’t matter
if I don’t like myself all alone
because right now
I am nothing but an imposter


cut it

I stare at the reflection
and see the silver locks
falling down on my body
and I don’t see myself
I see an alien
that is reminiscent
of my being
but defined
by the ever growing
silver on its head

– this isn’t me

red clouds

I see my
head in the clouds
so high and unattainable
dreaming in far away colours
off in the blue
sitting in the red
the world blurred
all around
I feel the biting heat
tearing on my skin

I turn the tunes
drown in the memories
they hold
waiting for the red clouds
to perish



red veins

I was born with a red dot inside the palm of my hand. It was merely a teeny spot when I was such as well – innocent and good
But ever since I was exposed to this world,
slowly tainted by its air and words and ways; the red freckle spread and grew its roots –  slowly spreading in my veins. I can feel the red crawling up my blood.
And it is slowly painting a maze onto my skin.

the bloodshed

In disbelieve these words had come from their orange lips, she held back emotions with painfully tightened fists. Born from a flat sigh, the words finally started to flow. There was nothing holding them back anymore. They needed to see the shade the nightmare had made her.

“Imagine being in a massive crowd of people, friends and family. Standing there, merrily chanting along the lines to song about the very thing you believe in; you stand for right there. You’re happy. You’re at peace. All of the sudden a shot in the laughter, singing turns into screaming – mayham. People restlessly running around in horror – back and forth. Nowhere to go. Like a murder of crows uncontrollably controlled by the 27 shots that followed. You look around, all you see is people. Sheer terror in their voices, confusion on their faces, despair and agony dripping from their drowning eyes. People everywhere. People screaming. People crying. People dying. All and everywhere is people, parted by the red rivers that flow.”

face behind mine

the face behind mine
I hid so well
I forgot the lines
and the shade of
the deepened eyes
the curve of
the covered lips
for when I stop to think
I am not sure
what my face
truely looks like
and so it is
ever changing

lifeless gift

You didn’t want to give me flowers
that would perish
as soon
as I placed them in my room
so you gave me a pretty plant
without telling me
how to care for it
and so, now
I am sitting in my room
looking at the lifeless
crisp leaves on the floor.
And I feel as though they were mine.


I did all those things
bended a thousand ways
almost too many to
stand up straight again
and only
so they’d like
the phantom I was creating
so they’d think
the mask I put on
was a pretty one
so they’d never see
the crackling lines
that were wandering down
from my eyes

squares and streets

I was standing in a sea of brown squares and empty walls.
When did all the scraps and pieces get pushed into those cold boxes? Like they meant nothing – were all the same – they threw her things in cartons and sealed them from the daylight. The thought that her books, her brushes, but never her would see these walls; it spread out in my mind, circling in my head it fell to my stomach.
I cut open the brown tape; reached in; put things in their new place. Again and again.
I remember thinking how everyone always says new beginnings were exciting. And yes, there were new streets and webs to get lost in and tiny cafés to breath in and people to see with, but grief has the great power to overshadow those bits of magic I could find in the streets I saw laying empty before me.