Beautiful bondage.

“I’m not a writer. I’m merely in bondage of the magic 

of words and the meaning 

they hold. 

I’m chained and bound to the mesmerising charm, 

of metaphors and rhymes, 

of twisted word-play 

and of simple quotes.

I’m only a victim of obsession 

and I’m only a helpless lover 

of everything that words are, 

the depth, the perspectives, 

and every little thing 

that leaves me in awe.

I’m simply in bondage, 

one that I don’t want to be delivered from. 

I’m a willing slave, I don’t want salvation from this beautiful burden 

of knowing and learning to express 

in a new way, with the same words, everyday. 

So when people ask my why

I don’t write everyday

I simply smile because 

my words are not my own.

They come from experiences.

The experiences I encounter 

in every little thing I do and I tell them this, 

“I only know one thing, that words 

are poetry, and poetry comes 

only from inspiration.

So the expectations of me, 

to write because I’m a writer, 

are unrealistic to me.

I cannot put my mind on paper

unless I have reason to.

Inspiration is the core of creation.”
Nothing else creates art. 

Art is not art, without a muse and so I will go onto the ends of the earth to find my muse 

and I will simply give ink to the musings of my wandering mind, 

until then, until I can,

I will not write 

but I will wait 

for my muse to come to me, 

or for me to find my muse.

-WANDERER // A r t & E x p e c t a t i o n 


Diary of a masochist.

She calls out to me, 

“why don’t you use them.”

Her attempts to lure me,

I try to prove them futile 

but I am, me, you see,

just as obsessed 

as she.

I, a tempted victim 

look at the objects 

of pleasure 

and guilt clouds 

my dark black eyes 

but I gaze at them

I know

the feeling

that comes along

with every time

they touch my body.

I know there is no cure.

“Use them”

“Use them” 

“Use them damn it”

She scream with rage 

“You need it” 

“You’re weak, you need it” 

My act of gazing, 

now turned into a stoic stare

I’m succumbing, 

I need to feed it.

I begin to realise

that this is wrong,

but I incline 

towards the other side 

of sanity

and I take 

the first object 

that will help 

with this blood lust

and use it on me.

I thrust,

it’s lovely edges inside me.

Oh what relief.

The light is dim,

I look at her, 

I pant, grabbing my breath, 

one step closer to death.

and through the mirror 

I see her smiling 

at the blood, 

that drips from me skin

I see her grinning, 

with immense pleasure 

and satisfaction, 

that masochist within.

Accept that you are different 

I have come to the realisation today, that in trying to become like somebody else, I sabotage my own abilities. 

I uproot my core and trying to mould it into something I admire, but that’s the thing, our roots are not clay.

I subject myself to my destruction simply because I don’t have enough valour for what I am capable, and in simply trying to do what I do, the way others do it 

I leave my talent to erode.

I think it’s important that we embrace the fact that we are capable of certain things and that we cannot do certain things. We need to accept that everyone is unique because they are different and we need to accept our differences, the ones that exist inside us, only then we will not fail to comprehend that we are simply different 

and that different is so beautiful.

-WANDERER // D i f f e r e n t 


“I see people around me screaming “Let’s live in the moment” “You only live once” and all the other typical lines like that and go have a rad time, drowning in alcohol and drugs, losing their senses to loud music, in blinding lights and deafening noise.
I don’t think that is not what Living is.

I think Living is exploring. I think Living is travelling until you feel home in every place you’ve never been. I think Living is watching the sun rise and not having to take a picture but letting the warmth simply penetrate you. I think Living is losing yourself to the sunset from a thousand places in this one world, and being healed a thousand times. I think Living is a process of moving towards peace, more of yourself and Loving yourself. I think Living is falling in love with nothingness of this world, a simple cup of coffee, a good book, or just the wind blowing through your hair as you walk and feeling completely content.” -WANDERER // L i v e 

-Marlyn Pereira