Dark Dreams

Are you afraid of the dark?

Of the sin and despair

Which linger in moonlight

And lies thick in the air?

Do you fear all the shadows

Which rise from your dreams?

Nightmares born out of pain

Where nothing’s quite as it seems

Do you shake with each bump

And each thump in the night?

Do the sounds make you shiver?

Does your heart race with fright?

Do you wait for the morning?

Watch for light in the east?

Pray with each haggard breath

For the darkness to cease?

…have you ever felt the pain

Of a night which wouldn’t end?

That wretched sort of torture

Which only Hell could send?

Have you lain awake at nights and dreamt

Of things which might have been?

Or do you replay lives which fell too fast

Inside your memory?

Is there something gnawing in your chest

Which lines your dreams with guilt?

Or do you grieve for fallen dreams

Which can never be rebuilt?

Though suns might rise, and moons might shine

The past can only play on rewind

And, when we look back on the things we seen,

They return to haunt us, inside our dreams.


red ballet shoes

the beautiful red ballet shoes

dipped in glitter

leaving a trail of sparkles across the stage

the sparkling remnant of dreams which broke too soon

a leap

a slip

a fall

and now

beautiful red ballet shoes which will dance no more

Pesadillas Asquerosas

Quedo muda, la luz ha

desaparecido. Todo que puedo

ver está tapado con luto


no me dejas aquí, sola

mi mente está llena de pesadillas


sembraron las semillas de


corran, corran

no me esperen

The Devil’s Face

When I entered the room

I never thought I would see

The face of the devil

Staring right back at me

His eyes are like caverns

Full of anguish and hate

His nose is too large

His pride is too great

His chin is too long

But his heart’s one I know

He’s still the man I loved

So many lives ago

I gave my all to him

Perhaps that’s why I bled

And now that we have met again

He looks away, instead

I never thought I’d see

Those eyes of his turn cold

I thought that he was perfect

Both our hearts were made of gold

I loved the devil, truly

But that was my mistake

This love that I have lost

Was a God-sent, healing grace

I’m better off without him

I’m better off here, alone

Although I know I’ll miss him

More than he’ll ever know

When Words Fail

The curtains were drawn, I walked into the room,

Looked at the lady, and said, “How do you do?”

She was very kind, just a little bit addled,

But the doctors around us were really quite baffled

Had she had a stroke? Was it an MVC?

There was nothing at all on the repeat CT

Save a little bit of shadowing, in the corner over here

But the pictures are too blurry. No, not a single thing is clear!

So they made a few calls, paused, and made a couple more

They met with the consultants on every single floor

They put their heads together, and came up with an answer

“It’s so obvious!” they said. “She has metastatic cancer!”

So they sent me to the patient, to have a little talk,

Since the patient was annoyed. She’d found out she couldn’t walk.

But I had made her smile before, that’s why they sent me in

“She’ll listen to you,” they said. “The situation’s win-win.”

But it was hell when she held my hand. A little part of me died.

I found I couldn’t say the truth, but there was no way I could lie

So I just smiled and told her things she didn’t understand

She smiled right back and nodded as she kept on holding my hand

“I don’t know much,” I started off. “But we think we have an answer.

This sickness here inside of you? We think it’s some kind of cancer.”

She knew she had a cancer, that wasn’t news to her.

But everything else I had to say just turned into a blur.

I didn’t tell her she had three weeks. I still don’t think she knows.

Because the doctor was coming in, and I said, “Let’s see how it goes.”

Today, this morning, she took my hand

And said to me, “Dear, I don’t quite understand.

They’re all quite silly, or else they’re being modest.

But you’re so nice. I know you’ll be honest.

I know I have a sickness, somewhere deep inside.

Tell me, my dear, am I going to die?”

I didn’t know how to respond to her words

The whole situation, to me, seemed rather absurd

I’m a writer, a poet. When I ask, words obey.

But how could I use them when there were no words to say?

Her eyes were right there, so close to me!

Her face and her trust were all I could see

The whole room was spinning. There was nowhere to run

I just couldn’t tell her that her life was done!

But the doctors wouldn’t say it, and the nurses thought she knew

She wouldn’t listen to anyone else, and I didn’t know what to do

I had a dear friend, once, who’d died just this way

I’d watched straight to the end, until God took her away

And now here was another, whose face was watching mine

A face which now will haunt me until the end of time

A face I couldn’t lie from, but I couldn’t tell the truth

When all your words have failed you, what on earth are you to do?


It was dark that night, too dark to see

My heart was still; it had abandoned me

I’d lost my love; now the whole world was black

Because he’d gone far away, and vowed to never come back.

But there were creaks in the house, as if someone were walking

And the voices, the whispers, yes, someone was talking!

But I’d locked all the doors, the key held tight in my fist

There must have been some place, some lock I had missed!

What did they want? Money? I had none of that

My lover had taken all the cash in our flat

They were welcome to the jewels which no longer had meaning

The joy those had brought was shallow and fleeting

There were steps by the door. The squeaky hinges creaked.

I looked up, alarmed, but I was too shocked to shriek.

My love stood there, floating, two feet from the ground

His eyes were pure white, and he didn’t make a sound

I saw there the face that I’ve always loved the most

My love, he was there. He’d turned into a ghost.

“Hello,” I said, softly. “I see you’ve returned.

I thought you were gone. Should I be concerned?”

My love only frowned as he flew to the bed

“I see,” I said slowly. “You’ve come to tell me you’re dead.”

My love smiled quite cruelly, and pointed to the door

It fell off its hinges, and crashed on the floor.

He then pointed to the window, and the shards rained down

The shattered glass shimmered as it fell on the ground.

“I see,” I said to him. “You want me to come.

But, my love, you’re mistaken. You said we were done.”

My love took my hand, and kissed it very quickly.

His eyes were like corpses. His skin looked so sickly.

He looked to the sky, to the stars, then to me

He pointed to my heart, or where it once used to be

“No!” I said, harshly. “I won’t go with you!

How dare you suggest it! You know that we’re through!

I have a brand new life without you to live.

You broke me apart. I’m not so quick to forgive!”

My love knelt before me, on the shiny broken shards

There were tears in his eyes. “Believe me,” I said. “I know is hard.

I always will love you, but some things aren’t meant to be

Please, just go on. Forget you that ever even knew me.”

With those words, my love vanished, and I blinked my eyes twice

Had he just disappeared? Why, that wasn’t nice!

The window was still broken, and the door frame was bent

What demon of Hell had the devil just sent?

I straightened my shirt as I got out of bed

As I reached for the door, I saw a strange note which read:

“My dear love, forgive me. I now see my crimes.

And, now that I’m dead, I am doing my time.

Please, have your heart back. I’ve mended it, see?

You should have known better than to give it to me.”

Silly little boy! Well, I was glad to have my heart

It’s strange how much you miss it when you’re both torn apart

Now I can begin again, and now I can move on

Away from that love with whom I didn’t belong

Phantom of the Opera

There are some things in life I will never understand. Like how I could walk by a gun, or a knife, and not pick it up before. I never wanted to die, but it was just too easy. The gun, the knife, the rope. They were all right there in front of me, begging to be used.

Please don’t misunderstand; I never meant to hurt anyone! The tools, they weren’t meant to be used on human flesh. Or any flesh, for that matter. They were props, stage tools! But a knife can still cut, and a rope can still hang.

And a gun? Oh, that’s where the lines blur. It wasn’t supposed to be real. I didn’t load it.

But who did?

We were friends, once. Not just in the show. Christine and the Phantom were never meant to be; Everyone knows she leaves me for Raoul.

Stupid, air-headed, piggish Raoul.

But I loved her. Well and truly. And she knew it. I left her flowers, chocolates, trinkets after every show. I showered her with attention. Adoration. Praise. And she returned my affection with coquettish smiles and laughter.

She made me think that she loved me, too.

Oh, the wiles of women! They caress your face with one hand while crushing your heart with the other. It wasn’t until opening night that I suspected anything at all. She hung on Raoul’s arm as she walked off the stage. My death was tragic, the audience clapped, and the curtain fell.

But she wasn’t waiting for me backstage. She wasn’t waiting for me at all. I later heard from Mme. Giry, whose tongue wagged freely, that Christine had gone to a bar with that horrid, pig-headed Raoul.

Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. Perhaps I was mistaken. I felt bad for doubting her, so I left her roses. The bright, red ones. The Phantom’s trademark.

But she disregarded them. She disregarded me.

A few days later, I saw the ring.

That’s when I knew that the story had to change.


It was the last song of the night. Christine and Raoul were floating away in their little rowboat. The new stagehand had added too much liquid into the fog machine, and the mist was particularly thick.

All the better for me. It was time to spice things up.

I jumped off my platform, reassessing the three items in the Phantom’s arsenal. A knife, a gun, and a long piece of rope.

I grabbed the gun first, and fired. It struck Raoul in the shoulder, and he went down. Over the boat, and onto the ground.

Christine screamed, but the audience was silent. They must have thought this a new twist on the old classic. I laughed in spite of myself. The booming sound was magnified by my microphone.

Christine climbed out of the boat towards Raoul. Before she could reach him, however, I fired two more shots. One missed them, but the other grazed Christine’s shoulder. She cried out in pain. Oh, if only she knew the number of times she had made me cry out like that! I advanced towards her, brandishing the knife. “You love me,” I said, my voice echoing through the theatre. “But you chose to go with him!”

The double meaning was not lost on her. Her lips moved in empty pleas even as I slit her throat.

“I will listen to your lies no more,” I said, as her body dropped to the floor. “The devil take your cheating soul.” Raoul groaned, and I realised he was still alive. I reached for the gun, then paused.

I was the Phantom of the Opera. I did not kill with guns. Smiling to myself, I shot out the two spotlights shining closest to the stage, shrouding nearly half the theatre in total darkness.


When they finally found light again, there were two bodies hanging from the set. One was Raoul, his face blue, his eyes unseeing. And then there was me. I wasn’t quite dead yet. But I was dead enough not to be able to make sense of the mad screams and wails coming all around me.

The gun lay by my feet. In my last conscious moment, I wondered wildly who had loaded it. I hadn’t realised it was loaded. I’d never even thought about it. I’d just picked it up.

If it hadn’t been loaded, no one would have died. Who left a loaded gun in the presence of a madman? Everyone knew that I was mad for Christine.

As my eyelids flickered, I saw a figure approach me, and pick up the gun. It was Mme. Giry.

“Thank you, Phantom,” she said. “I knew you would not fail me. I should have been the lead role, not that stupid Christine! My, how easy it was to fool that girl. I told her you sent the ring as an apology for missing dinner with her all those nights in a row. Quite a peculiar way you show your affection, Phantom!”