Where do we truly stand, what do we truly believe?
Ourselves? The universe? Or the false perception of our own vices?

For the man that thinks he loves does not love but hate, and the man that hates can only love, the man who seeks does find, but what he finds he doesn’t truly want, the man who draws sweet breathe waits only for it to cease, and the one who doesn’t can’t say,

Where do we truly stand? On life or on death?

For the man who lives hates his life, and the one who draws no breathe can’t say, the fallen man only wants strength to stand, and the man who stands will lend no helping arm, or give heed to the cries of another, lest he falls himself,

Who are we really? Brave or scared? Wise or foolish?

For we are but beings with frail hearts, and little minds, and we do not know how to accept that which is given, and we are but foolish, but the man who knows what he is, is wise.



Paper kites (the reflection) 

​Ever thought of it? 

How so much peace came with child hood, Not having to worry about anything but your paper kite, happiness spawned from simple things as paper boats, 

Don’t you wish you could go back? 

To those moments, the moments when the smiles and laughter that echo through these halls of life were filled with nothing but genuine joy, the moments when you weren’t afraid to dream, where you viewed the endless possibilities of life as an opportunity not something to be afraid of or dreaded, the moments when the freedom took hold of you like the wind taking hold of paper kites, those moments when you don’t feel the burden or the pressure, but be as light as air, those moments when you can be just you. 

I always thought to myself, why worry about the little things, why loose sight of the happiness that can be found in the simple things, Living in a world where I am afraid to dream of the simple things, thinking its not so easy to let the pain drift away, neither did I think that my worries would float downstream, 

I am afraid to dream of a great future, of a tomorrow where the sun never sets and the worries are all gone, why so afraid of a future that isn’t even here yet, why be so afraid to think you will ever be free, Why do these wings seem heavy, why can’t I fly and be merry, why can’t I bask in the happiness within the simplicities of life. 



Am a dreamer, but lately the images that form in my head, are no more than dark silhouettes, taking no true shape, facing no true direction, like my dreams are slowly being pulled away into a void, like the beauty of these thoughts are being painted over with a brush, a brush that paints everything I see as dark and shapeless, turning dreams into nothing but nightmares and fright. 

The warm glow has become a cold dark aura around my soul, chasing away every shimmer of hope until all that’s left is a frozen path, the sweet echoes  of my own heart beat going silent, as if frozen in time with no resonance to truly match it, all the intensity of feeling and the light that came from dreaming has gone dark and stale. 

I wander in search of the light, of a place that’s warm and bright, I move in hopes that the one thing that defines me will no longer be the one thing that makes me feel lost, this darkness is all that surrounds me, a black fog covering all that I know and feel, it almost feels like falling, like falling into nothing, falling and never landing, like I am suspended or more like being held still by a tiny string that is bound to snap from all the weight in my head, 

I wander in search of a light, of a place that’s warm and bright for I no longer want to be a dreamer who is too afraid to dream. 



You can lie all you want, 

put on a brave face for the world, 

but you can’t hide from me, 

am your chaperone, 

that tiny voice in your head screaming out within your soul, ,

“I know who you are, you are only just me”

You can act all tough, 

like nothing gets past your wall, 

you can claim to be as hard as stone, 

like nothing breaks your core, 

but I know who you are, 

am the shadow that’s always beside you, screaming out in a pitch that only you can hear, 

“I know who you are, and you are only just me”

You are only just me, 

your heart beats like mine, 

your brain cells fire in pain from all the pressure, 

I know cos am the one with the cold eyes staring back, whenever you look in the mirror, 

and I wont let you forget,  

“I know who you are, you are only just me”. 


A base cold glass

They say it creeps upon you like an epiphyte, It starts with a small seed of doubt or loneliness, growing into a full blown parasite, siphoning all your energy causing blight,  with happiness and creativity so contrite, until all that is left is a husk with no delight

a base cold glass for a soul. 

It keeps growing, making you worry, seeing the best in everything but you, you feel lost, the future is uncertain, what if this happens and that never happens? it becomes an endless struggle with fear, and how to hold it all together, and soon you loose all confidence in yourself, worry, anxiety, and paranoia takes over, leaving you with, 

a base cold glass for a soul

There’s a light at the end of the black hole, sometimes to be found in a friends smile, a sudden reminder that life will be better, Take a walk, see life for the beauty it is, Realize that its more than the pain or struggle, deep breathes, you don’t have to end up with, 

a base cold glass for a soul. 


Aching soul


I lay here in this cold box, yes this box made of pain, with sadness multiplying like bacterias in room temperature, with no way to contain. 

How did I get here? Behind the box of my own depths, a slave to these thoughts that haunt me like I owe a debt, memories of a past life and the man I once was flashing before my eyes, that’s what they always say, “a mans life flashes before his eyes at his last moment”, so I can’t help but wonder, could this be the end? 

How did I get here? In this pit, in this position where I am no longer in control, where the smiles I form no longer reach the depths of my soul, where the laughter that rings on from my throat no longer echo beyond or even console, with my fears and dark emotions taking control, 

How did I get to these depths? Buried six feet under with darkness and gloom all around me, my happiness swept away like a broom, my hopes and dreams set ablaze and consumed, my skies once filled with light and beauty now spells doom, and the creativity of my youth no longer blooms, 

How did I get here? Entombed, bound in shackles with nearly no room, where the only space left to move is the vacuum in my head filled with nothing but a voice that plumes, 

You see I am a seed made from long lines of sadness, nature blessed me with these tools to dig my self a feet deeper into the darkness, and fate made sure my life was a fairy tale, one that brought forth tears and many ails, struggling to keep it together with no avail. 

You see my brother was buried in pain with cuts on his wrist from where he bled his life away, you see mum was never whole again, and dad took to boxing, relieving his anger on his punching bag which was my face, leaving bruises on my skin and scars that cut deep into my soul, 

You see me friends walked away cos they couldn’t help my aching soul, brandishing their tongues against me with my secrets and fears piercing me like arrows, like hot coals against my mind, hurting with every turn, my light faded from my eyes as all my emotions slowly turned cold, you see my life slipped from me, falling into this pit I now call home,

You see I didn’t have a choice but to set my feelings aside and dig my self six feet deep in this dirt of anxiety, depression my only friend the one who was always there, slowly feeding my insecurities making my resolve weak until the depths of loneliness took me in, 

I know now, I shouldn’t have listened, but its too late for me, so I stay here in this well, this pit with only my demons to hear, with my fears all I have left, and oblivion awaits even as I think to myself, I don’t wanna be here.


My soul is on fire, made of ice, cold but burning so bright,  

Tell me, that each breath holds meaning, recount my ears with tales that no one was meant to be lonely,

Tell me, from whence does time’s  tide really flow? Will tomorrow forever be aglow above my head like the light that wears a golden cloak?, burning hot with rage as my world reduces to ash along with all I know. 

Will the tales my mum told me long ago, be on loop, a continuous repeat?,  like time playing the music of history and bloodshed over nothing but greed and impulse, 

Tell me, that the unjust will decide what I reap and what I sow, that the earth will continue to pull me into the darkness and the cold, tell me that fate willed it so, that the forces unseen tossed a coin and let go

Was I expected to take a bow and accept my role? This feeling ineffable, these thoughts that burns hot and remain inexpressible, may be  all I know, about a world that stood for eons with nothing to show.