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Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Mind Forests

Old trails of pain
Through forests in our mind
Become well-worn
And ingrained with time.

To make new trails
Towards hope that's sublime
The trees must be parted
So new paths can wind

Do not tread the old trails
Leave the memories behind
They become overgrown
In the forests of time.

W.T. 23/7/2020

Tuesday, July 21, 2020

The Cup

You see this goblet?

For me this glass is already broken.

I enjoy it.

I drink out of it.

It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns.

If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it.

But when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind knocks it over, or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, 'Of course.'

When I understand that this glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious. Every moment is just as it is, and nothing need be otherwise.


We attached our feelings
To the moment when we were hurt
Endowing it with immortality.

It travels with us
It sleeps with us

It hovers over us when we make love
And broods with us when we die.

There is only one remedy for the hurt

And it is forgiveness

Saturday, June 27, 2020


Your eyes are Antarctica
Frozen in a place that I can
No longer reach

A white beach
Of ice
And the drifting lies
I told you
On the horizon, icebergs of
Our false love.
But it was real
I sank it, our little boat
And I never got to thank you
I can only choke
On the time
I've left  behind.

While I wade
Through snowdrifts
I fall
The freezing hallways and
The blades
of labyrinthine glaciers
My body cut to pieces.

I look above
The alabaster sky is carved
By pillars of steam
Rising over distant
Pale hills.
Thermal pools gleam
I crawl towards
Warm lakes.
Thaw my frost bitten spirit.

Sunday, April 26, 2020

Her Industrial Wasteland Pharmacy

Another dream:

I had driven her to a bleak, industrial part of the city. A wasteland of abandoned buildings.

Even though I didn't recognise this place, it still somehow felt familiar.

The sky was full of grey clouds with jagged black spires, the concrete was shiny and wet, a light rain was drizzling down, putrid garbage and human waste littered the deserted streets.

She had a job in a pharmacy in this industrial wasteland.

This is the job she had always had while we were together. It was a part of her life that I never knew. I thought to myself "So this is where you go to work every day."

It was a grim, fetid and ghostly area, almost like the neglected zones of Detroit. Streets of moldered concrete and foul gutters with brown, rust-coloured streams flowed into rotted sewers.

I drove past barely legible bill posters that were torn and flapping, like peeled skin, from the sides of dilapidated buildings like decaying, gangrenous flags.


"This is the place" she said, nodding her head in the direction of a looming cluster of tall, blighted buildings. I parked my car in a side street, next to an old, polluted canal.

She got out of the car and walked ahead of me, her high-set ponytail bopping up and down as she strode purposefully towards the pharmacy. I lost sight of her as I was overcome by my dark, putrefied surroundings.

Suddenly, I was inside the pharmacy. I was standing behind an aisle and she was near the front counter. It was crowded, with lots of shadowy strangers milling around. I was watching her, but she couldn't see me. I was invisible. She was pouting and looking around the pharmacy, striking poses, as if trying to capture the attention of the faceless customers.

I felt a mixture of disgust and sadness. "How can you be so happy, spending all of your days in this derelict part of town, working in this dirty, rotting pharmacy?" I thought to myself.

I turned away from her and left the pharmacy. I felt a cold wind hit my face as I walked down the corroded streets towards the old, rancid canal where my car was parked.

I turned down a street that I thought my car was on, but it wasn't there. I felt a surge of anxiety as I looked for something familiar. I walked up and down the street, searching hopelessly. I eventually came to a chain link cyclone fence.

Through the mesh, I saw my car parked on the adjacent street. I felt a flood of relief as I walked across a nearby bridge, back to my car and drove away.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020


I came to the mountain
To face my reflection

To see what it could teach me.

I could not learn the reason why
You continue to creep on my mind.

I came to the mountain to die
Only to discover that I'd never lived.

Saturday, April 18, 2020


bush-bashin' with broheim

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

The Sharehouse

I stood at the steps of the tall, stone, rustic sharehouse. It was old and moldering, encircled by the Dickensian rooftops of a terraced moribund dreamscape.

This is where you live now. I had come to this place to find you.

I climbed the cobbled stairs, leading to a locked gate. A resident of the sharehouse emerged from a wooden doorway and approached the gate where I stood. He was wearing glasses that had no glass in them, the black wire of the empty glasses framed his mousy face. A scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck and his eyelids drooped and fell like curtains over his sleepy gaze.

"Have you lost your keys, bro?"

I didn't say anything. I looked at him blankly.

He glanced drowsily at me as he unlocked the gate and slithered past my withering glare.

Approaching the entrance of the sharehouse, I was met with the musty smell of unwashed clothes and marijuana smoke. I pushed on the wooden door and it creaked open.

Entering a long corridor, with many doors on either side, I began to slowly walk towards the room at the end of a hallway.

I knew this was your room.

The door to your room was open wide, as if to send an invitation to strangers to pass inside. A flickering, hazy purple light illuminated your room beyond the open door.

As I walked through the open door of your room, I noticed the decorative cloths that were draped from your ceiling. The patterned cloths gave the room an impression of a Bedouin tent from 1001 Arabian Nights, but without the jewels and without the magic. The room was dusty, old and decayed.

On the floor of the room, in the far corner, was a mattress where you lay. The mattress was covered in wrinkled, stained sheets that billowed and spilled over onto the wooden, white paint-speckled floorboards.

You looked up at me and giggled as you blew purple smoke from an ornate water pipe. You resembled the stoned caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland.

Beside you lay a small girl with jet black hair and a fringe that sliced across the bottom of her forehead. She appeared half-buried in the bed sheets.

Advancing towards the mattress, I crouched and stared at you. The small girl beside you peeked nervously at me, eyes half-hidden beneath her sharp fringe.

"This is your life now?"

I stood, reached for your arm, and pulled you out of the room. The small girl melted away beside you, into the bed sheets.

You smugly chortled as I took you into a small, dirty communal kitchen that was beside your room. Insects scuttled into dark crevices and brown stains dripped down the walls.

We stood beside a small window that looked out onto a grey sky.

I pulled you close to me. I intently searched your face for something familiar, but I no longer recognised you.

As I peered deeply into your cold inner landscape, I saw lightening flash behind your eyes.

A darkness swept across your gaze, like a storm rolling over a vast plain.

You smiled defiantly at me.

Your smile began to transmogrify into an oozing hatred that was only barely perceptible, like a whispering blade of grass.

While I was distracted by the emergence of your contemptuous smirk, your arm began to slowly reach outside of the kitchen window, unnaturally extending, like a long piece of pasta.

Outside of the window, on a small ledge, was a hammer.

As I stared into your smirking face, I saw your anger barely disguised.

Your arm suddenly snapped back through the kitchen window, clutching the hammer, smashing it into my face.

I was sucked into a blackness that felt like cold marble. Oblivion was complete. 

Friday, April 10, 2020

Star Familia


Thursday, March 26, 2020

Thursday, January 9, 2020