The Danish Girl

I have finally understood true beauty. It’s in the way I move my feet to the beat of a melody. It’s in the way I twirl my hair in a state of boredom. Its in the way I cross my legs trying to be sassy but end up surprising myself with my ability to do it in the first place. For long I have ignored the things that make me beautiful. For long I have taken for granted the things that make me want to be a woman. I love the way I look when my hair falls over my breasts and the way the light highlights the curve of my neck. I love how however ugly and improper society might find me, I always find joy in my own smile. I love how my eyes will never stop trying to tell my story. I love how my tiny toes will always remind my mother of her baby girl. I had forgotten so much on my way to trying to conform to what society perceives as beautiful. I had forgotten that each and every part of me is beautiful and how for some the desire to be a woman, the desire to feel the exact same way I feel is so strong that nothing, even death would kill that fire. I am proud of who I am and I am, for the lack of a better word, beautiful.
– Inspired by Lili Elbe


The dead lie waiting

On the edge of town,
in the silent night.
While the children sleep and
old men down their whiskey straight.

An eerie feeling creeps up
out of the amorous darkness.
“Let us in” howls the wind,
“We’re not so different, let us in”.

Once we roamed among the living,
breathing, killing and rejoicing.
It’s much the same on the other side,
except we just witness, we do not act.

The end of town is our abode.
A solace untouched by earthly thoughts.
Souls forget the mortal ways
and missed are not human views.

We wait for you to enter, a
time and space of pure truth,
experience firsthand what actually matters.
Come in, we won’t let you leave.
The dead lie waiting, please do feel at home.

3D render depicting an overgrown neglected cemetaryin misty twilight.

Grasping at straws

In the darkness of a void,
most of us stand.
Holding guts and dragging our feet.
Try desperately to gather up disturbing thoughts.
Colours are there and they are plenty.
But none to fix the blood red spot in the middle.
Nothing works, nothing fits.
Soon you’re just an effervescence of slimy vacancy.
Insects creep up on you as stealthy as death.
Insects called human race lost in time and space,
search for an nonexistent answer unaware of the question.
While you lie in the midst of emptiness,
waiting to be scrapped up from the floor
and thrown into another worthless cycle.

The Room at the end of the hallway

The room at the end of the hallway
was once a glorious sight.
It was where the princess lay
and dreamt of princes and fairy tales.

The room at the end of the hallway
was always filled with laughter
and love. Where her highness danced
and sung about things to come.

The room at the end of the hallway
slowly began to change,
once her lady moved away.
But promised she would come back again.

The room at the end of the hallway
soon became a home for lost things,
broken, torn, and useless pieces of life,
were forgotten and soon faded away.

The princess at long last had returned.
To find the room old and burnt.
She tried to bring it to life again,
but her efforts were in vain.
So she too vanished, into the darkness of
the room at the end of the hallway.