Boarderline Love

As the years trickle past,

my blood thickens,

I can read your attacks.

Your glass wall of protection is cracking.

Vicious and juvenile, she

casts a lightning streak, a clouded fog

burning my eyes as she barks taunts

into reddening ears, I ache

to release one—hard—swipe,

one good crack

that you so deserve.

But I restrain the golden-glove

boxer within my throbbing heart

waiting for the emotional

beatings to stop.

‘I know she’s going to leave me,’

She’s the grandmother who bakes nails

into her cookies,

“I love you unconditionally…”

under one condition

I am her punching bag and her ‘sweet girl.’

I’ve lost count of how many times her barb caught

on my weathered heart and tugged

a little too hard.

I will always love you, forever

Riding the Lines of Reality

Systematically searching for the right connection

under hot condensation dripping off

the peeling ceiling

of 28^th St.’s station.

The bumpy yellow sandpaper holds back

my eager feet from slipping

to the electric track below.

The 1-train cascades past

plastering 30 year old grime

into my pores, filling them

with the long forgotten experiences

from those who thrived in these tunnels before. 

We accepting fate as a scheduled journey,

the 70 other people weighing down the platform

crowd the iron worm,

soaking it with their fermenting frames

and exhausted brains, impatiently riding

the screeching rail to their destiny.

My fellow zombies sit uncomfortably close

sparking my temptation to cast judgment…

BING-BONG

‘therapy’s over.’

Time to return to the surface

and recollect my old self,

shedding the subway-me

with every step I take.

The Age of Observation

Don't We All?

I wish to crumple the paper
and ring out the ink
so to drain the words
from the page
for a chance to escape
to an earlier time,
when history wasn't written,
it was lived.

© 2012 Kait

Eternal Autumn

Sputtering, onyx bumps burst

releasing the aroma of carbon from

monotonous--meditating

leaf blowers on the backs of men, working

for a pleasant life, as they

stir orphaned, tangy harvest leaves,

scattering them on the sidewalks, I

swoon through the cerulean

chill of a November day. 

The Devil

A plague affecting both men and women in our modern society. Anorexia, Bulimia, self-harm, etc. have proved to be demons in my life and I am on a mission to exploit them, for cathartic reasons.

I’m drizzled on the food you eat,

Proud owner of your intrusive thoughts

those nights you can’t sleep.

I’m am the jeans that pinch your thighs;

I’m the prick stabbing your aching, shallow mind.

Dragging my serrated nails like a child drags a stick on a fence;

I bellow threats of abandonment and pain

While whispering chants of insanity.

“Do your heart strings break from my monumental strain?”

Let’s find the source of your happiness,

so I can pick it apart like a vulture.

Oh, and don’t worry,

I will never leave you,

darling,

I live inside your head.

We have an eternity to play

‘Building-yourself-up’;

So I can knock you down again.

Archaic

We are constantly dying,

Preoccupying

Ourselves with tasks

And time

To lose the scent

Of rotting flesh

As it lazily wafts by.

A Glitch in Time- Painting

This was submitted into a "Dream Landscape" Contest. The task was to portray a dream/fantasy world using any medium you wish. This is a combination of the story "Crux" and a mixture of a few dreams about self-realization and spiritual planes.

"A Glitch in Time"

The Voice of a Murderer

All the frigid Sunday mornings

in the month of no-mercy

are avoided by everyone,

whipping, agitated sighs

lick my burning, porcelain eyes.

Ice sculpture trees line the path

of my journey and memories of fertile spring

prove powerless against a midnight blizzard.

The emptiness of my shelter and harshness

of nature kindles a small hole of grief

for all my buried loves,

making my black, lumpy blood

sink deeper into sullen, weathered veins.

But you see, on this wonderfully dreary Sunday

I rescued a furry tabby from the tundra

and when its’ owner came to collect--

naturally, I took her in,

on mutual grounds, of course

until I spiked her tea

and tied her to the chair

where she had willingly sat,

gagged and bound

in her puffy white coat.

The sweetest rubber boots

encasing her delicate feet

squealed as she wriggled,

dancing on four legs in the middle

of my dimly lit room.

I wasn’t going to keep her long,

just until the stake of loneliness stopped twisting

      but she never woke up.

Now, I am truly trapped in this winter

I’ve found a space buried in the corner of my shelter,

to hide away in a stiff-knee-huddle

until the ground thaws.

Remains of a Blurry Memory

I awoke to the rusted sun 

shining through a 6 foot tall window.

My eye lids struggled to stay shut, 

but were shrinking away from each other

as neurons jumped and revived.

A tall shadow crept in front of the rays 

melting away my catatonic state;

a dark figure makes itself known.

A crashing wave struck the back of my brain 

expanding down my nerves, 

preparing them for flight.

A lanky figure with an apologetic face,

matronly-built torso and full legs

which fade into black chiffon dust 

toward the floor

wedges itself between my curiosity and superstitions.  

I mentally shrunk into a crowded corner

where my fear of ghosts and mysterious figures reside.

I found my crying, shivering childhood self

cowering behind a memory 

of shadowy figures who quickly left 

after they knew they had been seen.

When I peek out, 
the faded woman casting her shadow over me

shows her soft, weathered face.

Unmistakable now, 

I’ve known her before, 

in a certain time and space.

Blinking uncontrollably to refresh the image

and rid the room of the familiar intruder, 

I watch her waft closer with open arms and tilted head.

To avoid showing my soul to this eidolon of my past 

I turn my heart away, 

she shrinks like a deflating balloon 

but continues to glide closer.

Her hands gently caress my shoulder and graze my knee.

Taking a hard, deep breathe 

I expel a demand with hopeful certainty

“You’re not real, you’re not here!”

And it was true.

She disappeared.

She came to comfort the inner cherub 

who felt more intensely abandoned than I 

would ever readily admit. 

In a strange way, I was happy to see her,

Its’ been almost a year since grandma passed away.