X Marks the Spot

X Marks the Spot

What my pen is to paper

my heart is to mind

My pen carves a life

across pages of time

White paper speaks purity

a story untold

the cursor marks the spot

start writing…

be bold
© Kait King, 2015

Advertisements

Not a good time…

Not a good time

Inky black, I’m sucked back

down to her dark depths

Like an octopus her story wraps me in its tentacles

A stranglehold on stories told

and the ink she has spread across the page I can’t see through

I think I’m drowning…it’s sticky black and I should come up for air

even though my mouth is open to suck grace in -nothing fills my lungs

even though my eyes are open there is nothing – nothing but darkness

inky blackness the colour of the story told with the pain of being buried alive

© Kait King, 2015

Suicide – is it really a free ticket out?

Suicide

With a delicate stillness

and a quiet noise

with porcelain perfection

and perfect China poise

the body is supine

lying dead on the floor

supine in exsanguination

a choice to become Death’s whore

Ruby red your favourite colour

you wear it very well

although I won’t see you out much

a story we will tell

Did you get off scot-free?

Did you truly escape?

Or will you have to pay your dues

and return to this landscape…

© Kait King, 2015

A new darkness stirs within…

a new darkness

As a writer I sometimes struggle to write and other times it just falls out of me. Sometimes I wonder where what I write about comes from. I know I make a calculated plan – the skeleton or bones – of an idea but then the flesh just layers upon it, creating the monster. The words used, the feelings created and the imagery perceived is what the end goal is.

A new character with a new idea of the world and what it owes them or what they must pay to live in my book, emerges. I know the title, I know her, I know her story. I would like to share this journey with you too. The beginning of gods’ daughter…..

© Kait King, 2015