Wednesday, 18 December 2013


I remember the first time
I ever figured out
that coldness
is merely the absence of heat.

I was seventeen.

Now, I have realised
that flesh consumed
is but tarted up murder.

That blame
is but a lack of responsibility.

That anger directed outwards
comes from an inward source.

That biting the tongue
in turn bites down 
on the serpent inside.

And now, I am twenty-four,

and I realise that darkness 
is merely the absence of light.
But light is far hungrier, far more exact,
than the jawless maw of toothless night.

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