Was it me ?

A leaf fluttered behind me in the snow
casting a shadow of a cloaked giant
Was that me ?
Sneaking up to stab myself
and rob me,
of what was mine
and yet was not. 

Sculptor

If I could sculpt
I would carve
out
from my brain
these thoughts.

Suck out the pain
and
re-inject it
in that part,
and call it me.

And you would ask,
do I love me ?

Laugh or Cry, Laugh and Cry

It must hurt for the words to flow 

and burst through

the dense foliage

of hatred.

Is your love round-up ready ?

The sniffles sound

like drills in my heart : 

tears, oil it spills

igniting my despite.

A snake eating its tail ?