Fever Dreams

~ Drifting in and out of dreams. Surrounded by a pleasant haze produced from fever, flu medications and steaming oolong tea ~ I’ve had a severe flu for three days now. Words, ideas, images come and go too quickly for my pen. Slightly better today. Awake; at least for now ~

Why hurt the heart of another in the guise of protecting your own? At least, I think that’s what it is.

“Most souls labor under a self imposed curse of desiring but never truly giving themselves over to love.”
~ Michael Xavier


“Now I know what a ghost is. Unfinished business, that’s what.”
~ Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

I’m haunted by the ghost of a man that never was. The business between us goes on and on…

“In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.”
~ Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls

When I’m this sick, I look like one of those big-eyed girl dolls. Bradley doll? All eyes and oddly pale, smooth skin. With laugh lines. Ha! The irony. I watch my face morph back and forth between its used-to-be-girl and its can-grandma-be-far-off variations.

Audiobooks are the library faeries gift to the formerly voracious and now overwhelmed by life reader.

“Every sickness has an alien quality, a feeling of invasion and loss of control that is evident in the language we use about it.”
~ Siri Hustvedt, The Shaking Woman, or A History of My Nerves

Alien and weird… I talk to myself anyway but when I’m this sick, my voice is about five years old. Doesn’t want soup, doesn’t want crackers, doesn’t want boogers. Most definitely wants Mummy and teddy. I feel both relieved and utterly ridiculous that my panda teddy is still sitting on the guest bed, post unpacking. I get up very sheepishly but totally psyched out by thoughts that you’re there and retrieve him to sleep with me at around three AM. What terrifies me – well, I was only terrified in the wee hours and because I’ve watched 23 hours of cheesy horror movies – is that I’m not really mad at you anymore and that the thought of you near, changed – cleansed, purified, remorseful and loving as you said you were – is in fact, something of a comfort. When I’m not still mad.

Ghost Writer M Xavier

Is it wrong to have consumed only a litre of eggnog and the remainder of the Hershey Chocolate bells in the last couple days?

Reading, reading, napping, reading.

Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.
~ Albert Camus

I’ve become far too introverted, suspicious and fond of my own space – anyone would after what I went through – to give a flying fuck if I stay here alone for the rest of my life.


Bwa-hahahaha! I think that might even be a thing after my mention about teddy.

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
~ William Butler Yeats

I can barely move but I’m now out of cold meds… so, maybe sometimes it would be nice to have someone here. To make more tea, lots more.

I hate that flu makes me feel weak and that it took like, four hours to write a few incoherent sentences but… I like that my thoughts can slip the leash once in a while too.

~ kei
29 December 2014

Rebellion Spellering M Xavier

Yup. Can’t say I’m not all that and a pinch of angst…


I know you haven’t got the answers
To any of these crazy questions

Turning, dipping
Twirling, twisting

Kinetic acid-dropping dancers
Whirling dervish synapse prancers

That steal the show throughout the night
In this theatre of the strange

That is my mind

~ kei
17 November 2014

Hunted, Hurt, Haunted

Just prey
In his sights
Lured with his words
Loved only as a pawn
His long distance trophy
An unwilling captive
Soul maimed

My heart
Ripped to shreds
The gift reverently given
In hands filthy with his
Keystrokes to his whores
Lies of magnitude
The Devil

Despised revenant
Creeping and crawling
Disturbing my midnight dreams
Smiling his protestations of love
Staining newborn clean thoughts
With his memory
This lingering

~ kei
7 October 2014

Oh Hell Yeah I’ll Speak Ill

I am so angry that I could spit – so fucking angry…

How in the name of all things sane can that lying, whoring, filthy piece of shit have accrued so many wilfully blind fools?

All coming out to sing his praises just because he conveniently died and escaped having to face any accountability for his actions?

If he even had the decency to die. ‘Paths have been known to commit “Pseudocide”

He was a pathological liar of almost unreal dimensions. He is a fake, a phony and a complete and utter fraud. The one shred of dignity that I have is I left him.

Any idiot (of which I was one) can find this out with a simple Google Search and a little help from a P.I. Virtually, his entire life was a fabrication, embellished or tailored for every chick that came along. He could mouth and mimic, not feel.

I am not ranting about him. I know now what he is. I have proof and can happily supply it. I’m ranting about the people who think they were so damn special or deserving simply because he could slot them into his Google Hangout and Skype time.

He slept with me every night for almost two years and came to visit you while he called me his fiancée – the infamous black diamond engagement ring – and this is a sainted, troubled, pitiable man?  He wasn’t “troubled”.

This was a malicious, twisted, pathological Narcissist Predator.

I am so disgusted with Humanity, Women, Men and women in particular right now… No morals, no compassion, it doesn’t matter what I do, who cares who gets hurt as long as I get what I want. Don’t lets ask a question or try to get at a truth… Good God! That might spoil our little charades and delusions.


~ kei
8 June 2014

Why Do Narcissists Write Poetry?


Put Away Your Pompoms


My secret love, dwelling quiet in my heart and soul, shouted from this page.

My liege protector, standing strong against the world, held close to my Watcher’s heart.

His desire and longing are irresistible to me, as he lies in perfect beauty on our bed.

He commands in weighted silence, the touch of my fingers on his frame and pleads with kisses sweet that burn his image into my brain.

His hunger leaves me breathless, this secret love of mine, tasting full the unbridled desire he makes in me, and leaving me wanting more of his kiss.

Every angle of his body begs to be caressed and kissed and the sweet, low sound of his ecstasy I feel it for my own. I take his love inside of me and give him back in kind.

There are no secrets between him and me, my soul’s Alpha. He knows my heart like his own, my body better than myself. I am made lovely in his eyes, and he is perfect in mine.

He offers himself to me like the rarest gift, taking what he wants as a conqueror on his knees and I am a his treasured slave, when I push him down and demand my due.

We fight in sweat soaked sheets, seeking to be both the master and the servant and in moments of perfect joining not knowing where he begins or where I end.

In sated exhaustion, breath gone with exertion, the sheen of sweat and love, oils our bodies in the moonlight. His gaze upon me, reflects his love and adoration, undoing my soul and I fall into his eyes, lost in his arms, dreaming in complete satisfaction of the fealty of my Knight, to whom his Lady kneels.

In perfect harmony and balance of equals. A yin and yang of souls. In loving contrasts and harmonies. Two halves of one whole.

~ kei
30 April 2014


NaPoWriMo Blog Button

National Poetry Writing Month

See more at the link above.


I’m absolutely delighted to be posting my last poem of the 30 days of NaPoWriMo. What a great idea, though my inner teenager often wanted to flip the bird to the concept. No medals will be awarded but I’m pleased to have completed the challenge.

Here are all my poetry pieces written for this, my first year participating in National Poetry Writing Month:

1 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/01/not-fooled/

2 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/02/i-dont-wanna/

3 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/03/the-boys-got-swing/

4 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/04/linen-pages-haikus-nine/

5 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/05/passport/

6 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/06/gaslighter-acrostic-iv/

7 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/07/flower-child-haiku-viii/

8 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/08/perfect-couple-tanka-iii/

9 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/09/stars-pleiades-ii/

10 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/10/linen-pages-haikus-ten/

11 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/11/arlington-calls/

12 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/12/tenderness/

13 April 2014 – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/13/blank-verse/

14 April 2014 –  https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/14/afterglow-tanka-iv/

15 April 2014 –  https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/15/belladonna-reverse-acrostic-one/

16 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/16/spiritual-reverse-acrostic-two/

17 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/17/seventeenth/

18 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/18/rhythm/

19 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/19/ostara-seasons-haikus-four/

20 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/20/the-morning-after/

21 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/21/stasis/

22 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/22/tears/

23 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/23/hope/

24 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/24/relevance-2/

25 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/25/hello-boyo-alouette-one/

26 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/26/untitled-2/

27 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/27/forward-tanka-v/

28 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/28/oh-wordpress/

29 April 2014  – https://theeclecticpoet.com/2014/04/29/your-gift/


Running dry… the rain that continues to fall
I find my thoughts ever yearning for something, someone
Struggling to make beautiful words out of ugly thoughts
Labouriously trying to rewire the connections wrought
So deeply conditioned
Suspicions buried deep in my head
Destroy peace of mind
Make a trap of my bed
I can’t seem to stop looking for betrayal
The smallest things claw at my guts
Am I just one of the parade
A momentary diversion
Waking alone with horrible dreams
A lover with two knives one in each hand
Reaching to hug me with those knives held aloft
Ready to plunge in my back even as his mouth seeks mine
Running dry… no poetry
Alone with these thoughts
The horrific losses
Rain is falling endlessly
Alone I grieve
The loss of me

~ kei
26 April 2014


NaPoWriMo Blog Button

National Poetry Writing Month

See more at the link above.