My story doesn’t exist yet.

It is slowly forming like a fetus in a womb

While the death orchestra plays in my head

(bodies falling out of the ceiling)

Life sneaks out

Death wriggles in.

The story still isn’t ready

Everyone is tired of waiting.

I become part of the system.

The one that desire not being desired.

The cathartic release….

The end.



I stand at the half wall in my balcony

The wind is cold and full of sadness and intrigue.

I watch my neighbors leave for church.

Their apartment doors locked fircely

Their face painted pretty.

I’ve seen them before like this..

A week ago.

The same time, different attire

But the same face.

The same apartment door.

The wind gets colder and sadder.

And the day is drowning in intrigue.


As the cold slowly seeped into my bones,

I thought about the universe and my place in it.

I thought about you.

Your smile.

There is something about it, a sensitivity.

It’s like one of those machines that can detect earthquakes tons of miles away..

But the earthquake was in me.


I am not here..

I faded on the wings of yesterday

I revelled in the mirth of my past..

I was the sin that ended my day..

I waited

And waited

For then

I faded in that expectation

Of the end..


I saw the darkness long before I saw her. 

It was reveling. 
Some dark and untasteful yet lovely. 
I never wanted anyone more in that sleepy second. 
I became ephemeral

wreck me

if only skeletons were skeletons
then closets would be closets
if only addiction was addicted to me
then maybe falling in love wouldn’t be as flimsy as falling out  of it.

i’m choking in the black smokes of forgotten loves
clutching eagerly to the limbs of failed dreams
glancing pensively into the mirror of my insanity with you
this is the funny side of my death;
i fear i’ll love dying for you.

you must know; bleeding isn’t enough euphoria anymore
i need to lurch these deeper into my bones
then i’ll watch the effervescence of this darkness erupt into art
an iceberg of violent thoughts sinking my titanic

a cacophony of giddy butterflies
nudging me closer to your door
mocking how controless i am to you
your house; a terminal to my haunted thoughts

and then is it enough?
this colossal drop into the abyss
you see, i’m fading out slowly
and you’re just there watching nothing
i’m fluttering to my last emotions
bear me up- my heart don’t twitch no more
please, femme fatale; wreck me!

A Ballad to Nihilism

there is no sun

to shade your scars

there is no  glue

to bind your past


there is no beauty

to make you fall in love

there is no sea

to drown your shame


there is no art

to excuse your misery

there is no war

to embrace your ruin


there is no void

to plot your escape

there is no edge

to tempt your end


there is no death

to defy

there is no world

to save.