enough time.

There was nothing left
but memories
scattered everywhere
of the empty space between fingers
and the lack of hearts
traced on foggy mirrors

I should have known
that our expiry date would come
Maybe I could have delayed it.
better I feel this hurt now
than when it’s too late to
forgive and forget.

– LunaTheInksane


To Whomever It May Concern,

I am Alice. I am dying and I am sixteen years young.

Dear Young
At least I get to die being you.

Dear Death
You inching closer makes me nervous. Embrace me already! I hear there’s liberty in you.

Dear Liberty
I lost you the day Hope flew away.

Dear Hope
Stop breeding Misery, wherever you are.

Dear Misery
You are me and I am you. Two faces of the same person.

Dear Faces
You can stop the pretending now.

Dear Pretending
You’re my other me. Looks like a bad case of split personality. Isn’t that good?

Dear Good
I wish you mattered in this world.

Dear World
I wish I did something for you to remember me by.

Dear Me
Hello again.
Seems like I lost you somewhere between keeping you alive.
Dear Hello


– LunaTheInksane
This style of writing was developed by Jennifer-Leigh Oprihory


A Scoop Of Reality

I was lost in the fiery city of Reality, where only a few dared to venture. I thought I was ready for it, but it was not long before I craved the comfort of my hometown, Oblivion. Walking through the unpaved, dusty streets, I saw an ice-cream parlour in the distance and hoped to rest my weary feet there.

“You’re only welcome if you’re going to buy” said the old man at the counter before I even stepped in “And I hope you don’t expect free tasters, I’m not here to waste time.”

Taken aback and annoyed I was, but I only mumbled, “That was a bit harsh…”

“Eh, I see you’re not from around here. Welcome to Reality, kid.”

“Thanks… I’ve lost my way, could you help?”

“Sure, kid. But tell me what you’d like to have first. Hot day, isn’t it?”

The man seemed quite adamant, so I gave in. “Alright… What’s today’s special, sir?”

“Today’s special is Moral Absolutism.”


“Moral Absolutism, kid.” The old man looked at me as if I were the crazy one there.

“I…I’m confused, sir. What’s that?”

“It’s a grainy base of irrationality incorporated with closed-mindedness and topped with refusal to accept that bad can come of good and good, of bad. It’s extremely popular here; the fundamentalist’s favourite. You might have met him on your way here if you stopped by at the church.”

“Not my cup of tea, sir.

“Would you prefer a Capitalism float, then? The small amount of rich ice-cream always remains on top and takes the cake when the cola at the bottom is actually making everything work.”

“I don’t fancy floats, sorry.”

“Hmm, how about a lovely scoop of Minorities then? Full of different flavours and textures that are just as good as the popular but not regarded equally.”

By this time I was thoroughly perplexed and determined to leave. I definitely wasn’t ready for this sort of complexity. I just wanted some regular ice-cream. “What about vanilla, sir? Might you sell that?”

He smirked and answered, “Out of stock, kid. It’s never available in Reality. Plain Vanilla is for those living in Oblivion. You must be from there.”

“Yes… As I said, I’ve lost my way…”

He opened a drawer and scrambled for what seemed to be a map.

“Here, kid. Take this and try not to return, it’s a tough world out here. Take this piece of advice from a man who’s been here longer than you’ve lived.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But do remember, now that you’ve already seen Reality, it will always linger in your head. It’ll make you question every decision you make when in Oblivion. If you’re not careful, it will haunt you and infect your thoughts until you finally decide to permanently move here and become one of us. Get away as soon as you can and don’t ever look back, kid. Yours is the best world there is.”

I thanked him again and ran out of there, forgetting my weary feet.

Once I got back to Oblivion, I was thankful. I was extremely thankful for having made it.

Of course, I celebrated with a scoop of the finest Plain Vanilla available, the simplicity of it negating my need to ever venture into Reality again.

– Hash


I’m seams

We were:
Lies of kisses
Rumours of love

I was:
In love with the idea of falling in love

The world was: looking through kaleidoscopes
looking at how I was the same language as you
Unaware of the anagram I created to fit right in


Words are so overused

I’ve realised
my deconstructed anagrams are nothing but

jmubeld letters

– LunaTheInksane
Luna is the most beautiful young poet I’ve seen.
I confess, I’ve been in love with her ever since I first read her poetry. She’s going to stick around for a while and keep enchanting you guys.

PS. Admit it, her nom de plume is awesome


Hazel is wrong…

Hazel is wrong about infinite cardinality but she is right that some infinities are larger than others. I wanted her to be wrong but right, because that’s how we muddle through as observers of the universe – forging meaning where we can find it… from fact and fiction alike. And as my brain drowned in jet-lag I thought of the months I lived here. So much of that time I was sick and crippled with anxiety but all I could think about now, as night fell, was how much you can love made-up people; and how much you can miss them.

– John Green on a return visit to Amsterdam, the city where his book, The Fault in our Stars, is set in part


The Tigress’ Cub

A tigress groomed her lone cub such
That it grow to be a mighty heir
A tigress groomed her lone cub such
That no other shall ever compare.

The cub had been painstakingly taught to walk
Before he’d known how to see
The cub had been taught to hunt and kill
And so unquestioningly did he.

The tigress grew older and firmer and prouder
Who could hope to match her son?
After all, she thought, I have groomed him so well
And faults in him are none.

He is, she said, reflecting now,
A spitting image of me-
But of course not, he is better than I was
He is both, what I am, and what I never could be.

But the day did come, like it always does
When the youth, is young, and its spirits are high
That the cub, so loving, and so loved,
Did choose his mother to defy.

Of all people! My! How could he have known
The tigress’ unadulterated rage
With a simmering wrath such as never before
A war with him she did wage.

But, thought the cub, as he tried in vain
To parry his mother’s blows
Against her he did not wish to fight
It was a simple of a differing life ideology.

A creative streak he did possess
But he did not choose how to wield it
For he knew, his choice
Would invariably be wrong.

And so, as dictated, he did conform and progress
With life, with family, with friends.
But sometimes, he thought, he might regret
The choice he desired and did not defend.

– Opal

Opal is a friend and a guest author. Her poem reminded us of Miles’ favourite quote,

“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting”
– E.E.Cummings