"Exit."

The slip of your delicate frame cavorts with demons,
strokes shadows of the moon
skipping through ether,
one step, two step
shuffling clouds
like a deck of cards
collapsing through time.

I light a cigarette
inhale fumes of death
enriched with arsenic,
breathe through rustic nostrils

my voice aching with every murmur

"I will follow, soon,
once the drip, drip, drip subsides."

My eyes look deeper

and you have gone

but so have I,
down the corridor and a taxi home.

I pour a bourbon and smile,
look to the mirror
choose not to cry

but enjoy the moment
tomorrow's end
and all she will bring.

© 2008 Michaela James.

The Attic.

Rumours abound deep within
hollow cries of yesteryear,

shackle
the truth,
fear

the embrace.

The monotonous rain congealed,
each drop splays the floor
in sequence

the chimes of the clock
mocking all who sleep below.

Time ravages all who come to pass
yet welcomes with a splendid hello

for here lies hell
the prison of my mind
uncontrolled

I and I alone.

I pace once a year through empty spaces,
banging my head against their door

the momentary shadow
talks to me
as I watch from the attic window.

I am the sequence of events
murdered in dreams,
the black and white smudged

inherited from demons long settled.

The caricature of life
captured by the lonely descent
of every passer-by

their prayers unanswered
laced with venom

choked by lore and prose

their God in my hands
as I sever each throat

including my own.

©2008 Michaela James.

Porcelain.

I interpret the bargain in my hands
your porcelain face

carved within the timeline of apathy

I anticipate the shatter of delusions
specific to my crime

deny the denial of my every whim.

Dusk arrives and
I hurt more than I’ve ever done

stick the pins as we collide,
capitulate to the whore of wisdom

consider your worth.

One day you will be mine
forever entwined

dust to dust
ashes to ashes

we will rise.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw.

"Shadow Play."

I stare rejection in the face
before I go to bed
each night

It smiles as if it knows
everything I'm yet to feel

burns into the carcass it betrays

a shadow play.

Single droplets dissipate

tormented

I look beyond,
try to see
understand that this is it

this is me

I can't.

I close my eyes and turn
catching for a moment

herself move

she reaches out

I walk away.

© 2008 Michaela James.

one corner

Tears as trinkets
unlike diamonds

shiver with pain

one corner of the room
displayed yet
shadowed by the hand that caressed another.

The void of sanity enveloped
with each blow
seared

torched by words of sorrow

one corner of the mind
hidden yet
reflected in the shallow cry of silence.

I saw myself

slumped
engorged

piety drowned

one corner of the box

lit for a moment
before the darkness took me.

© 2008 Michaela James.

Soften The Sorrow.

Blind my eyes
So my shadow won't scare me

Sever my hands
So I can never hold onto the past

Deafen my ears
So I may hear silence eternal

Sew my lips
For they shall utter no more

Tales of abandoned truth.

Wrap my lungs in clouds of smoke
So the air I exhale chokes

Carve my flesh with the quill
So my pores bleed empty

Pluck my heart with the blade
So the beat inevitably slows

And pickle my mind
For it shall soften the sorrow

Of my everlasting final thought.

© 2008 Michaela James.

'The Price Of Life.'

Born without choice

ironic
the unknown fear
hidden
the depth of life

reality seldom realised

walking the dead.

Each green mile
subconsciously
eaten

youth

day
by
month
by
year.

I cry one billion tears
unknown to my consciousness

as the clock beckons with it's etched face,
each finger glides

wags
never weary

guiding our way to darkness.

I need to take the slow path
as each line appears

never fade,
they crawl across mankind

as the quick path beckons
with demons of excess

the price of life?

Death.

© 2008 Michaela James.

'Myself & I.'

'Myself & I.'

You toss and

turn

crumpled

unlike a blank page,

creases permanent.

Can you hear me?

the taunts that wake you.

Can you see me?

the shadows that lash your bed.

Can you feel me?

the footsteps you imagine

real.

I am hidden within the mind's riddle

darker than night,

reaching each corner,

grasping at your purgatory

licking the flames of

sympathy's hand held empathy-

the child-like figure

peering thro' the frosted window

pleading for

the deep sleep-

until then

I'll circle your being

devour your life,

drown your dreams.

© 2008 Michaela James.

'Life's Litter.'

Life's litter strewn
across the bedside table,
cornered by the photograph
ripped in two

haunted beauty
smiled

defaced.

Distant melodies
fed
my lobes as
the needle throbbed

blue veins empty

tears to be born
never came,
the moment crushed

cracked like a jigsaw
the final piece gone.

Thro' the eyes of my inner child
I saw fear
skit across the landscape

borrowed

bludgeoned

burnt

mirrored within my own self worth.

Innocence lost each night,
dreams cradled
blatantly sold

the promise of freedom
born from rage

soiled

and I can save my world,

the inevitable
consequence of delusion.

I am what I am,
a dead man waking

in time for the ultimate score.

© 2008 Michaela James.

I Remember You.

A distant face,
once pretty

now
ill-defined,
drowned
in self remorse.

I remember you

misinformed and
misaligned,

manic
you bled me dry.

A childless mother of convenience
or should I say dilapidated?

I could mock you,
snigger in the back room

or

hold my helping hand
high.

The moment of fondness buried
ten years before

still scored across my eyeline
as the tears forged roots.

I travel back,
recollections lucid,
haunting every move

till now,

I see the hate

haggard and
hidden
like a photograph
torn,

the band of gold slung across the room

melted,

forged myself into the iron fist,

I raged against
the lasting memoir,

could have punished you deeper

the hot blade of my tongue
through your bleating mind,

lashing at your lilac poison
perfumed,

choking

as I recall your words

‘I will love you,

always.’

© 2008 Michaela James.

Blind.

‘Blind.’

Motion of mind played night and day,
echoed reason

the calamity of desperados
tricked in on the ill wind

hallowed be thy prayer,
devoured in the instant
divine rights etched linen.

My lord and master chained to the thigh
lapped at innocence,
sin wrought with pleasure

each word hung with every groan
misplaced

tortured be thy prayer,
unheard yet ridiculed
each thought swept in a flood of babble.

Truth taken,
twisted like the apple tree,
forbidden speech and

written words wane

within time

blood on every hand held

each corner turned

blind.
© 2007 Michaela James.