Cursed cages. 

Must I carry the burden of my daemon at my side? Surely I can pick the golden thread stitches and set myself free of this treacherous power it holds on me.A shadow for Neverland perhaps, or maybe Satan will rise from the abyss to collect treasures found within, I have sold it him many times in darkened shadows of urine scented alleys for the dark secrets it possesses, perhaps he will come now as I shed myself of this torturous light. Yes, one stitch at a time I shall unpick the daemon that follows upon my shoulder a flaming phoenix she whistles a melancholic melody to the heavens or the hells, I no longer recognise. And without such a burden I shall reach for those stars that they say are outside of my reach, watch me, as I take what is mine to take, and leave behind the broken weepers that place upon me cursed cages of distraction. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

At your mercy. 

You’re a fire that burns inside of me in a continuous motion, always flaming, always flickering, always consuming it dominates at will a puppeteer control over my fingers, my mind, my body, today, puppeteer, I am at your mercy upon bruised knees amidst tattered fallen wings of grace, today I am at your mercy.
Karen Hayward ©2016 

Wings of the broken.

Straightening her arched back she stretches for the stars all too aware they are not within distance. The moon’s glow shimmering across her pale skin leaving a trail of glitter kisses in its wake. Shaking shoulders white, black and grey tufts of feathers float delicately onto a gentle breeze, the tide of change whistles a melody through the dancing leaves of eternal seasons. A star above twinkles, as great celestrial wings spread open upon her back. Eyes searching the horizon with the depth of an aging soul. She reaches again for the stars that are out of reach, smiling, knowing, she is a fallen angel and needs no one for she will rise to the heavens and dance among the stars an eternal introvert lost in the silence of the universe.
Karen Hayward ©2016


The primal scream 

that shatters the 

boundaries of existence, 

whispered need 

caressing sun kissed skin, 

desire igniting, 

lost in a spell of 

forbidden passion

that disperses effortlessly. 

I submit. 

Let the devil’s lust

burn in my veins as

desire becomes me until 

I am lost to the dark skies 

of night.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Insomniac nightmares.

Your presence haunts me from the darkness, taunting me within the shadows calling out to me as I slumber. Forcing me through the red mist into a realm of  violent discord. And the rains fall and the acid burns and the children scream of tortured pain.  Heart beats ebbing toward a distant light as innocence is lost in a roar of abandoned fear. I feel your essence between the darkness and the light, teetering on the edge of purgatory, the devil’s soldiers march on as the bairns sleep peacefully, their dreams the realism of a black hearted world. I can sense your torture upon my soul and scream into the vast abyss, but I am merely a flicker of pain and the vastness does not reply but to send me the devil as he crawls across he co tours if naked spirit.
Karen Hayward @ 2016

Old man.

Old man will you one day share with me your name
now that you no longer look at me eyes filled with shame?
Will you bless upon my ears the whisper of your voice
and the beauty of a smile I believe you have long forgotten is a choice.
Old man, I have time and smiles for everyday,
Let’s work on this together, would that be okay?

Karen Hayward ©2016