Darkling Wings #novemberfalls

‪Suppressed no more‬‪

By tepid winds‬

‪Her darkling wings spread‬

‪Opalescent into‬

‪The tempered night‬

‪As soft as the tenderest‬

‪Of loves‬

‪As broad as the shoulders‬

‪That could carry the world‬

‪And as beautiful‬

‪As the song‬

‪that breeches the horizon‬

‪In the small hours‬

‪Of the morn‬

©Entirety 2016

Photo by VictorianEnglishCharm

Hung #novemberfalls

‪Right before‬‪

The fatal slice‬

‪I was hung by a rope‬

‪Left to dangle‬

‪A poor hang mans noose‬

‪Set to fail‬

‪And not break my neck‬

‪But to let the pain linger‬

‪So now‬

‪This quickened pulse slows‬

‪No longer holding out‬

‪That you’ll cut me loose‬

‪You’d rather watch me‬

‪Bleed out instead‬

‪A pool of sorrows‬

‪Your trophy‬

‪My blood‬

‪Your wine to intoxicate

Your twisted soul

©Entirety 2016

Photo from Pinterest

Welts of the Cane 

A Lesson in Pain

He said life is cruel and she had no reason to doubt him. She went through the catalogue of the last decades of her own life, then broadened her thoughts to a world of poverty, disaster and hatred.

Life is cruel. It can be cruel.

I’m not here to blow sunshine up your ass, I’m here to teach you to endure, he said.

Life is cruel, and so is a sadist.  

Tell me if you like the cane, he said. No, she replied, I do not like the cane.

Wrong answer. Life is cruel, and consequently painful.

Shoo, the cane went through the air. Cutting like a whip, faking a blow, never landing on her skin. She flinched. Every muscle, tensed for the cruelty of life to hit. Her jaw, her buttocks, her fists, clenched. Toes curled, eyes scrunched, the anticipation of pain, the tightening of her mind around a 2 foot long stick of bamboo; braced for impact, but how long, could one brace for? Eternally.

Life is cruel. The crack of the cane across her buttocks, this pain was no fake.

The white hot sear made her cry out, and she swore through her teeth. She tensed her neck to see the next blow fall to her thigh, then her other thigh. Two, then three, how many cracks of the cane before she saw. Too many.  

Life is cruel. To say it is not is to lie to oneself, it is a hard truth. There is no life that begins, without an end. That should be proof enough.

Crack goes the cane. Welts rise, skin flushes, and the mind writhes to sort the chaos, of feeling the cruelty of life.

Do you like the cane? He asked again. Yes, she replied.

Crack goes the cane. Her body doesn’t lie, she does not like the cane. Her mind and body writhed in sync.

The fake blows, whizzed through the air, as her skin burned and rose in response, a response to her lesson in pain.  

Life is cruel. But that’s not all it is.

She lowered her forehead to the burbur rug, buttocks up, exposed to the elements of life.  


Skin to flesh






One breath in, a sinking into the uncomfortable floor, and a surrender to another blow.

You stopped fighting the pain there, he said, you see, it only makes it worse.  

She knew before he spoke the words out loud. Her body knew, and her minds chaos settled in this truth. Aware that every flinch, every tightening, every chaotic piece of her mind, would only lend to more cruelty in tomorrow.

Kneel, he said.

She rose, make up burning her eyes, flushed, swollen and red and life’s teacher before her.

Crawl, he said, and he led her to the shower.

Get in, he said, but stay kneeling.

The shower bordered on scalding. Water pouring over her head, shoulders, travelling across each welt with reminders of the heat from the cruelty of the cane.

Not from life. From him.

Separating pain from blame, acceptance from surrender.

Separating cause and effect.  

She did not want a lesson in pain. She did not want to live in the uncomfortable realm of accepting life as cruel. But she did not want to live as victim, but rather as endurer.

To push beyond the pain, to see what lays beneath. Push into the pain, not against. See what you can birth, he said, when you stop fighting the pain, and see your strength.  

The water fell across her lips, her ears rung with truth, her hair plastered to her pretty pale face. The sound of the faucet, being turned off and a towel being laid across her back. A chin titled to her Teacher and a smile received.

Life may be cruel. But it is not void of redemption inside the pain. If only we could just learn, to let go.

©Entirety 2016

photo from Pinterest

Making Memories #novemberfalls

She coloured her world

With painted hope

Brush strokes of love

Making memories

Knowing today will write

The ending of yesterday’s tales

But holds strong

To telling the beginning of tomorrow’s 

©Entirety 2016

photo from Pinterest

Hazy Days #novemberfalls

I traded my insanity

From the hazy days

To lie awake next to the ghost of you

To sing the post mortem Blues

Through a night

That is content with our love

On death row

©Entirety 2016

artwork by Loui Jover

Origami Hearts for #novemberfalls

photo by Camillaskye on flickr


Folded over

And under

Formed with ease

Origami hearts

Took shape

Sprouted wings

Off the ground

Set over sea

We’ll soar the skies

With love and possibility

©Entirety 2016

Reminders #novemberfalls #SableSwanV

Ground into shards

Small pieces remain

Reminders of a heart

That once knew how to beat

Through a looking glass

In mystery and wonder

Despite reefs and wrecks

Unafraid of the storms

She never broke

Until that fateful day

Now under the sea she lay

©Entirety 2016

photo from Pinterest

Tortured Dreams #Novemberfalls

photo from Pinterest


You twisted

My wants

You tortured

My dreams

And I sunk into your vitriol

Like quicksand

To my death

So that yours

Became my own

And I suffered

Never claiming my worth

That you

Are not me

And your thoughts

Not from my mind

And it took years

To see

I am not subject

To your ends

©Entirety 2016

Wind Song #novemberfalls

Each night

She is carried along

By the wind song

In its hollow whisp

That turns her sharp pain

To a dull ache

And she floats away

Hoping the ache

Wouldn’t escape

And leave her heart

As stone

©Entirety 2016

photo from tumblr

Reaching #fieryverse

A wildflower painted

On a wall

So high

She reached the sky

And she grew

The only way

She knew how

Woven together like lace



And faith in love


By the touch of sunlight

She felt

In its brush

© Entirety 2016

photo from Pinterest