the bitter words I harbored
were burdens I consciously bore
and though it hurt
to speak
I spoke at will
baring my teeth
like a beast
so you would know
the pain
I felt


a sudden but anticipated tragedy


sometimes even a jug of
orange juice can tear through
your sense of self,
a searing hole opening up
dragging you down like quicksand,
and you gasp for air as
long-buried memories escape
like poisonous gas from
the blistered chasm, and
you descend into that
long forgotten pit of darkness
too sudden for tears to be shed

This is the kind of forgetting that hurts the most

This is the kind of forgetting

that hurts the most.


Let silence cut you open

Let the lush memories extend their

microscopic claws, their fingernails

perfectly horrid, slicing at your chest,

wanting out, wanting to be free.


Is there

a monster inside of you? Then

why do you feel so monstrous? So

relentlessly bloody, so stained by

your catastrophic past, so unhuman.


If we are who we are because

of our past then you are

probably a monster after all

but perhaps we’re all monsters

because when life gushes forth,

a crimson waterfall

splashing into life, gushes forth

from your chest, rips you open:

you have nowhere to hide, except

in the dark. And aren’t we all,

more or less, hiding in the dark?



Somewhere inside of me—somewhere

recluse and disembodied—dwells

my various selves that have been

created out of malleable delusions,

whipped into tangible forms

as my one true self deforms, and grows

recalcitrant to my rule.


This intermittent decomposition

of the soul, occurs slowly, while the

mirror loses my reflection

and disfigures my image into

something uncanny and utterly twisted,

turns me into someone I cannot bear to look at.


I cannot live like this anymore. 


It is then the portions of my character

stirs with unease, refusing to hide and

scurry in the ditches of my uncertainty

any longer. They thud against my

left temple, wanting out, erupting

from the crevices of my body

and burning my skin. I don’t think

I can hold them in and I shall not try to.

This damned rebellion! The shattered

pieces of my desires waging a sweet war against my

throne of false security and comfort

forcing me to open my eyes, giving me pain

and granting me hope. They yearn for the light,

and I yearn to be free, and on the battlefields

we meet, wanting to be whole, whispering to

each other a promise that will bind us,

forever and ever,

until death do us part.


For years I have struggled from

the indispensability of your words and

this endless resistance has left me

deranged, breathless in a perpetual vertigo.

As I immerse myself in your

indisputable wisdom, I am awash with the

light from your tear-spilled eyes that are

shining with dreams that I used to dream

You stare at me, unblinking, with profound

intention, like a sad, musing raven,

like an unexpected judgement.


I turn away with a jolt of heartache,

And the black inertia, with its venomous teeth,

devours me from the inside.

I have no choice but to  rage

with every cell of my being

to pursue a  life that does not involve

your innocence and your love

so I can prevent you from being stained

by the dark parasites living deep

down inside the shadows of my soul.


So I tread on glassy roads and I

tremble from the steps that I take

and I break

away from your angellic wings

your beautiful vulnerability

and seek desperately a place

a place where I will never be found

to keep you safe.


Tonight when the clock strikes twelve, it’s your turn to be afraid

You hold me in your arms, because you can’t stand being alone

I let my eyes rest, counting the shadows in your dreams

Shadows shaped like hands in a nightmarish breeze

Frantically reaching

Those awkward grabs in the muggy air satisfy me

I have found a new way to be happy


They’re coming for you


This is not what you’re hoping to hear

You lower your gaze and take a look at the mess beside our feet

Pieces of my heart shattered, scattered, littered

Everywhere on the living room floor, where we first made love

And also where pleads and mockeries congeal

Rolling back and forth on their bellies

Becoming indistinguishable as a chunk of goo

Like a deformed, melting baby


This is your moment


Your moment of glory. Days ago you reached out to me with your words

Blood trickled down my numb, zombie-face

A blade stuck in my left ear, etched in flesh

While our broken love fought its way in, deadly and corrosive

I had failed to defend myself from this unexpected infestation.


I love you. 


I think I understand what an apocalypse feels like now

I have learned how easily a world can end

It’s you leaving me, and it’s as simple and as childish as that

That makes you a good teacher, though you’re not that much of a learner

Which is why you will never understand the jolt of pain in your chest when I slap you across the cheek

You will never understand the anger you feel when I call you a dog-hearted bastard

You will never realize the way your nails curl inward and scoop up your flesh, a shitload of blood gushing out

Even if you’ve seen it coming, you won’t be able to prevent it

You will never find that time bomb I have placed inside of your kidney, which will explode in precisely fifteen seconds

Taking me with you, though I’m already gone

Note: This is not based on personal experience. I do have an ex but I did not plant a time bomb inside of his kidney. Okay, maybe he is stupid, because all ex’s are, but let me just declare my total detachment and non-involvement in the emotions and actions described above. I am merely experimenting with a dark, psychotic voice. And to those of you who’ve been reading my poetry for a while…you’ve probably noticed I’m a pretty dark person LOL but only in my literature, not in real life. Thanks to all of my regular readers ❤ I don’t have a big circle of readership, but I really appreciate the ones who come to my blogs and read my poems.

From Kim, with lots of love, and why am I babbling about this I do not know. 😀

P.S. Oh and yes, I know it’s physically impossible to plant a bomb in somebody’s kidney…it’s more of a metaphorical thing. 😀

It’s not just hockey.

The pushed bodies clotting in the veins of a city.

The black cells, armed with batons and horses

Driving them out like the heart trying its best

To pump out the wastes of the body.

But sometimes the heart is too frail.



Helpless turtles turned on its metal shell

Molested by fists and voices.

Despicable fish-mouths hooting and whoo-ing.

Dirtied, scraped hands clapping for more.

Ruined faces and broken bottles everywhere.

The explicit romance of lovers. Kisses exchanged in delirium, in another world.

Marshmallows of fire, seen from the sky, oozing out a sweet, overwhelming scent.


They are alive. They are watching us.

This shameless riot gives them breath, gives them life.

Unexpected complications wrapped in ribbons made of tear gas

Sent around the globe like presents by an early Santa Chaos.

This year, for us, a whole city of coals.


I think I know what Hell will look like. A hall of mirrors. That frightens me the most.


So I pray for rain.


By K.T.