Poetry

Solidified

Ice becomes its glaze,

injected just under the surface to spread and fill every

hairline fracture.

Yet deep inside the clay is ragged, gripping on to every last piece

of soul that passes through it,

the desire for its insides to reflect its outer

hopelessly flawed from the outset.

Poetry

Ice Maiden

She drinks in the river and lets the ice settle in her heart,

enclosing the fire they want to steal away.

They’re gasping, gasping for their lives,

but she thinks not, should have left the cradle be.

She ignores the red blood, the blue

for hers is deep green and never runs dry.

Hers is the proud tears of mothers watching their babes grow,

the sound laughter as they sever her veins.

Poetry

Finer things

Is it a diamond you seek?

Cut and shaped with princess blood,

adding to the value?

Pure, elegant, transparent.

Polished to perfection, mirroring

what you wish to see?

Should I congratulate myself for thinking

you do not care for those

neatly fractured inside, tarnished, imperfect,

but diamonds none the less?

You never wanted to see the wild flowers.

Only those cultivated over years

by expert growers and displayed by florists

to show their most enticing features.

But look how much life

those wild flowers bring.

That’s what I’d like to say, yet it’s too late.

Your eyes have turned to stone.

Poetry

Soiled Glass

The chugging of the engine wakes me;

I am tainted

with its fumes.

A blackened face

in a blackened mirror,

a copy made of carbon

filled with the discards of personality.

 

My doppelganger’s stupidity

faces me everyday,

always solid with the expression of the trapped.

 

Ironic, don’t you think?

 

If only I could roll it up

into little balls of doughy flesh

and pop them into my mouth one by one,

chewing and chewing until the juices

flow out

and I can use them to wipe away

the layers of coal-dusted

skin.