Origami Swans

Eyes wander over grazed, stained arms
skin thin as canvas
stretching over bone
framing a piece of art so frail
its pigment begins to fade,
paint cracks feather over
every detail
as blurring narratives
fade into
sunlit backdrops

Cut fingers
and pin pricked minds
trace over
origami thought
wrapping lace bandages
over nics
and accidental incisions
sewing stories onto
paper
in bespattered paint

The room swarmed with paper swans
as the floor turned to red

Ecstasy

The addict-
inhaled her into his lungs-
replaced nicotine with flesh and blood-
rolled his body around her like a joint.
His body a mixture of two parts paranoia-
and one part anxiety.

Sweats,
shakes,
rejection,
exhaling her from his lungs-
before taking another drag.

Trembling hands-
as she parts from his lips-
her perfume clings to him like cigarettes-
                         Like ecstasy she will push him to the edge

This poem was inspired by the relationship between recovering addicts and their partners, I thought about the idea of quitting an addiction for the person you love, essentially replacing the addiction with the person and becoming addicted to them. in this poem the addict replacing drugs and alcohol with his girlfriend. i questioned what would happen when the relationship breaks down, would the person be able to cope with another dose of withdrawal? 

Betrothed To My Burden

If you should find yourself
Unbeknowingly betrothed to my burden
Smite it down
Tear at its dreams, its hopes and its passions.
Do it so, with lack of lust
No compassion nor craving for its eternity
No infinite love, or never ending cycle

Tiptoe

Tiptoe

Wandering through the knee high leaves

Her collar lined with crystal due

Her bones wrapped in white torn mistrusting lace

Hem frayed, heart silenced

The quite screams of forgotten dreams

In the frost her body quivers

As she lay barren

Faced down in snow

Allowing fingertips of ice to trace her spine

And tear at her innocence

Her pale heart in silent yearning

For a year past and forgotten

A tortured soul, bound by her fear

Bound by rope

And memory

Her deepest demons

Tearing themselves from her inside out
As tunnel eyed passers-by turn their heads astray
Shuffling feet to mask the sound

A frostbitten beauty 
Worn over time
Who dared bare her soul
For there is nothing more lonely than a girl
Who's soul wanders amongst the hearts of men

I wrote this piece a few weeks back after looking through the incredible work of Laura Makabresku a photographer and writer from Poland. Her work shows influences from farytales and carries a constant whimsical theme, with influences from gothic folk law. One of her recent series of photographs follows the tale of a young girl who died in an unfortunate suicide. A group of men, who were deemed to be insane, would perform rituals to tempt back her soul, where they would then bind her body with rope so she took human form, and would then abuse her. 
I am normally unable to write poetry without planning, but her photographs have proved great for inspiration and I was able to simply put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as the case may be) and write. 
Please go and take a look at the incredible woman who inspired this piece Laura Makabresku