To Lose

In truth, there’ll always be

Another ‘everything’ to lose,

It is a lie that an eye that sees

Can run out of tears;


And a heart that beats

Is a heart that hurts;

The same mind that knows

Is the mind that errs;

And the warmest voice

Sometimes surely whispers

The coldest words;


In truth, there’ll always be

Another ‘everything’ to lose;

And it is a lie that the pain decreases

Or that one gets used to it;


Still, a heart that beats

Is a heart that hopes;

And a mind that errs

Is a mind that learns;

And the coldest voice

Sometimes surely whispers

The kindest words;


In truth, there’ll always be

Another ‘everything’ to lose,

Till you’re naught but breath and a pair of wings,

Made of what was once

Your everything

A Million Ways

I wish to know a million ways to hurt:

With fist and sword,

With smile, with thought and word,

So from a million ways to hurt

I could protect you,

Who lives at war with the world

Your own mind has created;


I’ll learn my arts

From pretend saints and their demons,

From those, who buy what can’t be bought,

Who, to sell water, cause a draught,

From those, who drench their lands in blood

As if to please not their confused hearts

But a god;


I’ll sprout a million hands

And place in each a weapon;

I’ll grow a million heads

And poison each with ignorance;

I’ll stand on a million legs so strong,

With each my step the Earth will shake,

And I will slay, destroy and dance

Until but dust – and you – remain;


I wished to know a million ways to hurt,

So I could give you this clean sheet

To paint a world,

Where there’s no need for pain or fear,

Or monsters of unalterable pasts;

Where none finds joy in harming or in suffering;

Where there’s no place for me, at last

Cinderella Walks

My shoes of dazzling diamonds

Have spikes on the inside;

The beauty I see when I walk

They turn into scorchingly painful nightmares;


My dresses, which like spring waters flow –

Were hand-woven from living adders;

When I walk, their touch makes my skin crawl

And my veins – overflow with venom;


My smile is the gate to my heart –

It’s a scar that refuses to heal,

Proudly showing itself to the world as I walk;

I once believed naively that scars, too, had appeal;


My eyes from two grains of grey sand

Have grown into two mountains of granite;

I carry my mountains wherever I walk,

And dance on their slopes with bleeding feet,

A crippled smile, wearing Cinderella’s cerement


You smile good-bye,

And I despise you

With every fiber

Of my heart:


Did you not tell me

That you loved me –

But just enough

To wish me luck?


You see exactly

Where I’m going;

You understand

I won’t return;


I value it

That you should trust me –

So blindly

You would watch me turn


To dust, and still expect

Next morning

To feel my hand,

In yours clasped tightly:


I’ll joke about the

Death I’d died and

Lie to your face

That all is fine;


Yet, when you even try

To stop me,

I simply laugh

Into your eyes;


No, not because

I’m mad and callous,

But because I find weakness



You should have listened

When they told you,

‘She looks it,

But she isn’t nice,’


Sadly, your heart

Did not choose wisely;

Sadly, you followed it

And now…


You can’t let go

Without it seeming

That you don’t love me

As you should,


Nor can you stop me

When I leave; sadly,

I can’t imagine

How you would;


What is it called,

This game of grasping,

Of letting go,

Of pain and patience,


A game

For miserable losers

Who play not with each other

But themselves?

Dorian Gray/The Map

How heavy you’ve become,

My eyelids!

How small and pale you look,

My lips!


How many branches

Have the wrinkles

Upon this tree

Of memories!


How many deaths

Have closed these eyes and

How many times

This skin has been reborn!


How many lives,

In one assembled,

Make up the face

I call my own!


I look at it –

How I abhor it:

The greed it stands for,

The impatience!


I look at it –

And I rejoice to

See painted on it

Love, forgiveness, grace;


One thing is certain –

There’s no room for

Another route

Upon this busy map;


The only place

That it can lead to

Is but another

Hellish maze;


I’ll rip that map

To puzzle pieces;

And draw a new one

In its place;


All I have been

And all I’ve cherished

I must let go of

And replace;


Beyond regret,

In a chest of treasures,

I’ll keep

The puzzle of the past;


And none will see

The real face of

Dorian Grey

Until he dies