pruning and gnawing at the gyrus of my numbed mind
a shadow enters the room, and it sits behind
it grinds a mudded heel into sheer night’s tail
filling my head with a gluey fairy-tale
it takes away the caulking gun from my ear
claps on my shoulder, asks with barefaced jeer
“are you dreaming of being a writer, you silly boy?
headache, restless nights, burnout… enjoy!”
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017
I gawp at the screen.
White pixels goggle at me.
An opening scene…
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
There’s a memoir somewhere around here
That bears my name engraved in bold on the front cover
Just the same as words cut deep in a headstone
A novel written on broken dreams with fallen tears
And a slap in the face to the one who creates
I’m nauseated by my own philosophy
And I won’t claim the pages as my own anymore
All they’ve done is rip me off with their clever lies
But it’s my turn to do the ripping now
So I’m sitting on this dirty window sill
Tearing out all my chapters page by page
Watching the wind carry them away one by one
But it isn’t as simple as I make it sound
Like a spider bite on the inside
Every rip stings my heart a little bit
Ten years have just gone out the window
By sitting in it for just three months
It’s been ninety-nine days today
And now I’m in need of a massive re-write
Because all that’s left are two covers and a spine
But I won’t be the writer this time around
God the Creator is my author now
So the new edition is sure to sell
by RY HAKARI
© All rights reserved 2014
I know you, my perfect reader!
I can see plainly in my head –
You are a sceptic and a leader,
You can say truth without dread.
I can narrate of you a lot.
You are the best of our breed!
You have a single tiny blot.
A little bug… You hate to read!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014
unbolt me 