Prodigies of Pain

Why is it that the only talent,

we are all born with

is the innate ability

to cause pain.

It can lie hidden for years,

or allow itself to be coaxed out

by circumstances.

We are all convinced

of our humanity, our goodness,

we tell ourselves that our gods

are on our side.

But didn’t all conquerors and kings

think the same?



Waiting for Spring

The ice upon the ground,

Has traveled up my spine

And filled my ears and mouth.

Waiting for a spring

I know will never come,

I watch as life drips by

Yet cannot make a sound.



I cannot breath nor hear nor speak.

Your words fill my

Mouth and my nose.

Your voice fills my ears.

Trapped beneath this

Weight that buries me

There’s only the fear

You instill

And a rapidly shrinking

Air supply.


It’s only when you have been

Buried by an avalanche

That you begin to know the truth.

White is the color of hell.