Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Letter to the Tattoomaker

Ink me a scar
O, designer of pain.
Make it deep, dark, intricate.
Add colour if you may.

Let it whisper my tale from afar
Of that love's stain.
It's never too late,
For all the things I couldn't say.

It could be that fallen star.
Brightly shinning in vain.
Befallen to ill fate.
While it shone on many a day.

O, won't you mix in some tar.
Dark as Hades mane.
Put in a drop of blood as bait.
Red - to tease that tear at bay.

I'll look at it - as a melody cut to a bar.
Sing the song of that lover's lane.
Where I walk now in numbness - not love or hate
Carve, pierce, fill - so it forever on skin will stay!

Friday, December 18, 2009

Ghosts of Convenience

O, most convenient Ghost: I find
I entertain you in my mind.
So come and sit, we'll chat a bit,
Your cup will overflow with wit.

Trying though you are, my friend.
I like your haunts, they shall not end.
We waltzed once to 'Hope, Disbanding.'
Now we dance to 'Understanding.'

That's your cappuccino, there.
Need more sugar? Take your share.
Nothing's worse than bitter drinks --
Except, a bitter heart, methinks.

Time : the greatest sinfree sweetener
Rightens things misthought before.
One nervous, gnawing night in bed.
I knew: I'm living in my head