Self-flagellation: The Last Highway out of Hell

He whips himself, he whips himself very hard;

the silent screams breaking into an ugly grimace

The cat-o-nine-tails screams like a mad banshee;

the knots striking in a frenzy, a blood thirsty race

Each lash is dedicated to one specific memory;

a black hole in the whole black vast space of life  

Each stroke exposing a white pulsating nerve;

a silver snake writhing under a very sharp knife

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Man in the Mirror


Go look at the sick pale face in the mirror;

how loathsome the face seems to appear

Look at him for long and look very closely;

you will find quietly lurking, a passive fear

Of failed dreams and victorious nightmares;

of a life utterly failed, loss of all that is dear

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The Autumn Within


Outside, there is autumn – the colours of gold and rust

It comes for a month or two and then hits rock bottom

Inside, the autumn stays forever, heaps of ash and dust

It came when I was born, will leave when I’m all rotten

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