I have no patience

sorry for not wanting to wait
for a well-considered social conclusion
I no longer have the strength
to expend, nor the heart to
wrap compassion around you
like a soft warm blanket
because what always happens
is that you brush my hands off
of the soulful wool I have woven
and you leave me standing
on a street full of people who
do not lift their eyes as they
pass each other by and
you leave me standing there
as uncontrollable shivers travel
down my spine, shriveling me
until the cold air singes my smile
that is now lifelessly frozen

stay in the Now

Stay in the now. Forgive. Positivity. Laws of attraction. Unconditional love. Grace. Generosity.

Choose love, they say
but I did choose love.

I’m sorry for feeling like a monster
if only for a couple of days, because all
of a sudden the world was full of bullshit and fakers
they thrive on their own lies, an abnormal growth
on the flesh of their soul

Actually, sorry I’m not sorry for feeling like a monster.
I feel bitter, angry, empty, sulking silently
in my cold insullible corner
Stay in the now. Forgive. Positivity. Laws of attraction. Unconditional love. Grace. Generosity. Light. Love and light. Higher frequency. Light. Love and light.

Sorry I’m not sorry
for being human.

For the past few days I just feel profoundly bitter. I tell myself that I’m alright, that the higher choice is to forgive, to inhabit the space of light and love. I tell myself that “I need to feel better.” Then I said to myself, no I don’t. I don’t need to feel better. I feel bitter right now, so I’m going to feel bitter. I’m only human, after all. I’ll be all light and love and grace in a couple of days, and I’llĀ  be fine after I finish riding this wave.

ripping the night to shreds

as I tear through the celestial membrane
the goodness of it singes my tongue;
it touches the lump in my throat: a tumour
of tears I am unable to shed, and
hisses, dissolving what is left of my words

no longer human,
I howl at the full moon
ripping the night to shreds:
let the bitter shades of my soul
taint the picturesque sky
and those who cry mercy with blood
on their hands
can die.