My Poetry
This is where all my original poems live. These are written at pure random, and whenever I'm inspired. I'm not a taught or skilled poet at all, I just do these for the fun of it. Each poem also comes with its own description, as I like to explain things a lot.
Perfect Blue
There is a period nestled within the night
A time when time falls apart
When every thing glows
A cyanotype work of art
Every living being who remains awake to witness
Transforms anew
Silver spectres in the perfect blue
Meaning
Perfect Blue is about Blue Hour, and my experiences with it. My first time witnessing blue hour came during a breakup in 2020. I spent the night overjoyed with myself for dumping my ex, and I’d stayed up for so long that I witnessed Blue Hour. It was on that fateful 13th of May, that I was stained by that Blue Hour, forever.
White Monks of the Soil
When the hallowed grounds plunge into dusk,
the Pale Acolytes rise from a bacterial slumber
Milky legs splay out in a greeting of thousands
Beady black eyes shine wide
Pronged tails flicker in the damp air,
of the glass temple they dwell inside
Upon an altar of rot
To a god of fungal decay
The white monks of the soil begin to pray
Meaning
White Monks of the Soil is about my time cultivating springtails, a type of tiny hexapod. I own terrariums, which benefit from the presence of Springtails due to their appetite for molds and fungi alike.
September Spell
One of my few tethers to the human kind,
a grounding point for the psychotic mind,
is when the clock hands strike midnight,
and September arrives
The sensations fall upon me as a sparkling sheet
Of auburn leaves that crunch beneath the feet
Glistening conker shells rocked gently from the trees;
by the longed-for kiss of the autumn breeze
The days that flicker like the dying flames,
of candles that have burned for too long
The touch of a warm darkness profound
Without fail, each time, I am left
spellbound
Meaning
September Spell is about my experiences with September and October. I find that this time of year makes my bouts of psychosis easier to handle, and it generally has a very nostalgic quality for me. Alongside this, is the focus on sensory stimuli, which is more vivid to me as an autistic person.
Wardian Man
He arrives from the shining darkness,
cloaked in a circling eclipse of moths
They crawl on his antique coat.
As they sing their silent psalm,
their unholy idol reaches with a gloved palm
Amongst dust and floral smells unknown
Hundreds of night angels
spew from his sleeve alone
He casts his glittering gaze into mine,
eyes preserved through the tides of time
The living wardian case
That still teems with exotic flowers
Eternally perpetuating,
with blood as its water
Masochism and mystique
The thoughts with infinite ways to speak
As numerous as the songbirds
Meaning
Wardian Man is a poem about being accosted by a vampire. Vampires are one of my special interests, and I’m (As one can decipher through language) open about eroticising them. The title “Wardian Man” is a reference to the Wardian Case, the prototypical terrarium used by the British empire to port all sorts of flora. The vampire, like the Wardian Case, is an example of self-perpetuating life.
Cotard Delusion
Crazed eyes pierce through the starry seam
This reality lies in tatters, and all that remains
is a deathly dream
Meaning
Cotard Delusion is about the condition it’s named after. I experience bouts of it, and it heavily influences the way I perceive myself.
Dark Angel
I beseech you, oh Dark Angel of the Pool
Lady of the black lake
Of all things fair and cruel
Oh dancer within the darkness
Climb down from the top of your tenebrous tower
And take myself into you
So I can blossom as an umbral flower
Make me what you are
A being stunning and stark
A speaker of the void
Meaning
Dark Angel is about loneliness, and the intense desire for intimacy. I wrote it during a very hard time for me, when all I desired was to gracefully disappear into an all-consuming, all-accepting force.