Woodworm

I visualise the tiny holes
Secretly infesting,
Weakening bones
Like woodworm.
I’m on one of their backs;
A voyeur
In inner space.
Woodworm cancer
Speckling the
Skeleton,
Spreading spots
Eroding this life’s vessel.
He says he’s fine
When he late
Returns,
Reluctant—
Like a child
Pushed towards
Their failure,
Their mistake,
Disgrace.
He says he’s fine
When he lies to me—
Face blue,
Faceless
Digital alphabets
Thrown together,
A string
For a stranger—
Loveless.
I keep making
Peace with the
Distance;
Goldfish swimming
In circles.
The no return
Excuses,
The rot in
My soul,
The hole
He created
With another falsity!
It’s ok.
I’ve made peace—
I lie to myself too.
The damnation
Of Genetics.

Dead Waltz

A ghost waltzed through me
When I slept deathly deep
Slumber disrupted
Taking advantage
As he did with my
Friendship, my loyalty
My trust, my body

A ghost waltzed through me
Like I was his to enter
No choice but surrender
And I welcomed his touch
Through disgust
Distaste, mistrust
Did I lay down the mat?

A ghost waltzed through me
Did I invite him inside?
An open window, door ajar
In a tongue unknown
A serenade degrade
Billows clouding smoke
Butt of some joke

A ghost waltzed through me
I played dead

Don’t move
Don’t whimper
Quiet heart
Don’t breathe
Don’t stir

A ghost waltzed through me
I lay still.

Your Heaven is a Lie

A Poem

The poignant print
Has pressed itself
Upon my cerebrum
Sepia ink bleeding
The cells we share
Scream in anguish
Silenced, winded
Controlled by them
Another whisper
Her Faint voice 
Only heads his own.
Him
There’s always
A him
First under
Their skins
Like they belonged
To him
And each after
Many faces
The same demon
Chancers
Gypsies
Faux gentlemen
Had his way
Abusing bodies
Manipulating minds
Like no crime
Captive strangled
His God-given right
Blind eyes
Sightless
Mindless
The perverse
Protected
It’s the mad
Talking
No one hears
Gibberish
Gobbledygook
Drivel
Swept under
Bulging rug
Give it a wide-berth
The unstable
Weave weathers
Fraying weakening 
The boards
Beneath creak
Like her voice
Cognitive dissonance
Ignorant until
It’s too late…
Another coffin
How many now?
Hold hands
Ersatz repentance
Hypocrisy reigning
Sins of the
Self-righteous
Self-proclaimed 
Unchallenged patriarch
The worst of them
Self-made god(s)
Bitten tongues
My open eyes
See through
The shoddy charade
That he parades
With every dial
Every smile 
Clink of glass
The heart haemorrhages
In silent solitude
There’s no truce
With these
Truths
Your Heaven is
A lie and your
Hell awaits
When you
Fucking die.

LoveSick

Thrice fallen
Sickening ‘love’
Love because
There’s no
Other word.
Senseless unhinging;
The soul’s
Unwelcome apprentice
Staggering eclipsing
Penumbra of logic
Piercing passions
Affection infatuation
Desires yearning
For more than 
Mere skin.
Oh, the skin…
I can taste
Your salt
Remnant thoughts
Linger quiver
Each baptism 
Triggered by
Scent — drowning
Flooding my 
Nostrils and
Unsuspecting brain
As if
She were
Credulous.
That kiss
Staggering surprising
Rattling knees
The gliding
Purple satin
Caressing
Hardening nipples
His scent
Intoxication annihilation 
The thorn in my heart
Dousing my 
Spent body
Invading tuberous-spores
Washing winds
Of ‘love’
Over goose-bumped
Prickled skin
Soaking my
Soul in
Heady wine
Must touch
Every part
Of you
Feel you move
From the 
Inside
Sink teeth
Lick clean
The elixir
Of your
Delicious dermis
Worship at
Your voice
Wince,
Quiver,
Shiver
Melt with
Your touch
Deep dive
The waters
Of those
Eyes
Cliches spin
The broken
Record of
Human need
Mine
Greed for
Contact
Every inch
Of fabled
Chaos Chords
Intensely tethered
Holding me
Hostage
In bondage
Abundant
In my
Gullible heart
To the rest, stone.
Each of
You ferment
Within me
Blending a
Fine concoction
My own
Special cask.
Exclusive reclusive.
Did you
Know of
My love
Like that
Superseding rejection
Deflection, lies
Your love’s
Demise
How even
Now, and
At the
end of
Each of
Our times;
All time
I'd share
My deathbed
With All
Of you
Thrice over
As one
I'd welcome
Your wives
And embrace 
Them with 
The love
That’s always
Been more
Than I
Can handle
Coursing through
The nucleus 
Of every cell
I’d open
The damn
For your
Sweet loves
Rippling it 
Out; a
Tsunami blanket
Of eternity
In each
Of your
Arms of
Ages
Covered, devoured
The love
That never
Dies…
Except for
Those times
That mine
saw it
Vanish from 
Your eyes.
It still
Lives here…
The apparition
Of yours
To my
Widowed love
Caressing my
bones until
They are
Crumbs of
History
Dust on
The wind.
Unseen like
That word
Again…
Love.
I’ve opened 
My legs
Danced with 
Tongues
Split open
Veins
And my
(Death) bed
Would lay
Open for 
You to
Fill.
Welcome mat
Gormless Gullible
Obsessively loyal
Lovesick heart.

Blood On Your Hands

Won’t keep your distance
Blood on your hands
Won’t wear a face covering
Blood on your hands
Won’t wash your hands again
Blood on your hands
Your exponential deviation from definition of essential
Blood on your hands
It’s just one hug, one kiss
Blood on your hands
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble
Just one day you say
Blood on your hands
It could’ve been anything
Him, her, that other thing
The finger pointed can’t be proven
Asymptomatic, screaming lies of hoax
Blame the media
Pandemic naysayer
Systemic stupidity at the helm
Throwing around blame like it’s some game 
Voiding yourself of responsibility
Insane
BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS!
Even if you can’t see it
Know this is true
It’s not all about you
Except for, that’s right…
The blood on your hands
You think you're asserting your rights
Your right to kill
Dominating social discord
It’s just some cheap thrill 
Blood on your hands
Your right to your idea of freedom
Enslaved to conspiracy, half-truths – all lies
Ignorantly, defiant, belligerent, delusional
It’s staining 
That blood on your hands
These inconsiderate, selfish acts
Because it’s your right to protest
Catastrophic fires rage
The blood is still on your fucking hands.
Carry on, send your best wishes, your mother fucking prayers—
Until you take actions that count—
Your prayers are a joke
Hoaxer Hocus
You know what isn’t?
THE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS!

Just Words

Their love
Demanded a price
Obedience
Blood
Sanity
Unspoken (at times)
Until she spoke up
Raising from a whisper
Unnoticed
Unheard
Unwelcome
Pitchforks
Faux assurances
Platitudes
Lies
All of which she despised
A continuous cycle
Only she could break
The black sheep
The unwanted
The failure
Witch bitch
Her death worth more than her life
The life begrudged
Cell division
Damning their youth
Sealing fates
She to blame
Because someone had to be
She tried
Talked
Filtered
Diluted herself
Until there was barely anything left
Shut up
Medicate
Put between some miles
Time
Distance not enough
Their disdain plain
As long as she exists
It’s all Futile
The failed investment
It’s all too late
Consummation sealed fate
Abortion option too late
You are your faults
Your decisions
She is not your scapegoat
Anymore.

Undertow City

Strolling through the city of ghosts
Mine and others
Life lessening; remnants many
The only commodities exponentially growing
The less-ness and the dead
Faces curl by, mighty and mellow
Jesting jesters
Secret stalkers
Smooth and lined
Chiselling the face of ages
Charcoal sketches in a dusty book
My neck cranes from the tarmac
To sandstone stretching skyward
Behind blacked shades I hasten a look
Faces carved into stone statues
Corrosion of time changes their masks
And I see you there
Dancing among the gargoyles
Faces I’ve known
Faces I’ve kissed
Faces long dismissed
Echoes of ancient conversations
Undertows hidden behind music
Soothing ears and fears with every pluck and stroke
Muffling hyper consternation
Rapid beats in the throat
Lost words imprint the atmosphere
Bare toes curl into the black cracked pavement
They keep remaking it
Covering the splits
The old tracks; spectre paths
Undertows ripple underfoot
Soon only remnants shall remain
Ruptured
I’m one of them; a mere echo
In this Undertow City.

Figment

Pressing, softly through the cracks
Fragments of consciousness
Piston hissing speckled the dead-night

Moving electricity aside
She slips in like butter
Melting and reforming to what I once knew

She was melancholy like my heart
Sullen of soul
My scion mirror

The tunnel formed
Attuning the station
Between pre and post mortem
A hollow in this verse
A meeting place

We spoke about mortality
Not with words
It was all there, though
Moths fluttering in the air
It’s been a while…

Since we shared space
Since we shared time
She keeps reminding me, though
Those are figments...

Of faux comfort
Fool’s restraints
Flimsy, weak cortex
It’s not everything
Not even close

The cat’s body is in the next room
Upon the pink bedspread
His marbled fur of coppers and black
Still as the void
I can look if I want, she tells me
He won’t stir yet
But I can’t leave
Paralysed in the serenity
Permeating from her form

There’s so much more to that cat

The sun seeps in
Glimmers strain against the sides
Dagger sharp
Fragments tear the space asunder

I’m here again…
She’s gone.
© Natasha Sinclair

People Pleasing Massacre

A poem

From this tomb
I look at the massacre
I’ve made of myself
Taking in every ripple of depression
The marches of its succession
Binging and fasting like waves sloshing
Overwhelming loose skin
Drinking in the scars
Grooves deeper than can be seen
Slashes from the blade
Tracks worn into this sick façade
Embedded in the tomb
For me, there’s no room
Depression’s refusal to be released
Sagging waves of torment
Dropping into the scalding water
Reddening surface and silver deep
Lie back
Just lie back let it sink in
Conquer the concave slave
Drench black-eyed face under
Revell in the nearing thunder
I can see through my corpse to the decomposition
My life’s mission
Taking in their rot
I’m rotting alive
No need to be a giver
They keep taking
Clawing at the veins
Sucking my blood with straws
Lie back further
Steer across the landscape
It ain’t too horrifying from this angle
The sags tighten
Silver streaks lighten
Red fades to blush
Embrace the incoming hush
I’ll lie here
Lie to myself for a while
Let the silver lining twinkle
A perspective shift
A momentary lift.

© Natasha Sinclair

One Last Time

Biding time until reaper's weepers dispersed
The mourning departed to spread grief song

I linger until silence befell cemetery gates
Beyond the ceremonial bound

In observance
Solitary silence
Spiritual widow
I’ve waited…

Making way across the damp green
Souls stick in the mud sinking
Making my way to you
One last time

Love out of sight
Residing now on opposing dimensions
Held in the brevity of penumbra
Lovestruck in shadow
Your dark spell, loves curse

By the mound afore you
I stare into your pit
Imagining the pits of your eyes behind the box
Pondering the transparency of your boxes of fabrication
Heart-shaped carpentry, weak to these sorrowful eyes

My love on a fine line
Kneeling with my hands in your mud bed
I climb into your grave
Lay atop of your box poured with flowers you hate

Deep in the hole upon my love’s burial bed
Breathing in the fumes of your death
Feeling deaths whispers swarm my head

Love eternally buried in me
Beyond the finite blood and bone
Can you feel the heat penetrate your cold corpse?
I lie in your pit
Widow death shroud
On top of my love…

One last time


© Natasha Sinclair