Sunset over another year.

Solitary confinement
nine months and counting.
Self-imposed isolating prison
securing safety.
Sleep walking from wall to wall.
Avoiding liveliness.
People generally.
That disease that shall not be named.

Black mirror light.
A world through touch type.
Soothing wireless sound.
Deep voice midnight DJ.
Familiar milestones
marking many sleepless nights.

Bending time slips away.
Drop by drop.
Inch by inch.
Aching glacial wave.
Millennium long days.
Another year wasted.

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This is not a piece posturing on pandemics.
Stop sign here — no panic intended.
Laws of logarithmic numbers
in that global mystery
are for epidemiologists to decipher.

Mine is a question asked
as a part of another puzzle.
Believing other fragments that fit
where the gaps exist
are lost in an ocean of mismatched pieces.

Pondering the challenge.
A pan is drawn to a particular personality.
No one else satisfies the pursuit for their pleasure.
What would be the odds
of two pans wanting only each other.

I guess a pandemic would increase those odds.
In a self-isolation scenario.
An infinite dilemma.

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A mother’s protective love.

The moments. Lost. The motions. Found.
Like clocks, we chime to a beat that matches no heart.
Mementos of feelings; fractured echoes.
Snapshots in faded sepia tones.
Crackling through distance and time.

“My little vampire.”
Preferring pan juices left from a bloodied steak.
No stomach for your mother’s milk.
Too weak to cry…

me and my shadow

Last night I took a walk
and separated from my shadow.
It stood alongside me for a while;
not really sure if it wanted to stay or go.
Such a thorny decision to make
when you have been stuck in sync
as one for so long.
Through the lows and lows together.
Basking in the glory of the…

A near life experience — New Zealand

I try not to think about the melancholy that courses through my veins.

It’s been a part of my flesh,
every fibre of my being,
for as long as the thought
became a memory.

Sometimes, I choose to forget.
Sometimes, I try.
Sometimes, I just let it wash through me.

winter wall

Stabbing my heart
with cold and careless words.
I have died a thousand times.
Intriguing like fire flames -
not even lukewarm.
Blue shards cooler than ice.
Inclination against affection.
A preference to solitude.

The apple of the eye?
A longing desire.
An attachment that never grew.
Subdued by steel too sharp
to be a one-edged blade.
Cuts of resentment slicing to damage.
Alienation and estrangement.
The malice: too much to take.
The loathing repugnant abomination.
Daggers drawn and swords pointed
to a mutual hate….

Sympathize with my daydreams.
An infatuation that was shredded away.
The hunger died too long ago.
Over you….

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we are all the same here

Staring around a confining room.
Four walls seem to be closing in.
Corralling any thoughts –
any signs of non-conformity.
Rows of unchanging robots.
Mirror images in their actions.
Identical and faithless.
There’s no such thing as emotion.
It’s too radical to conceive.
Living as mindless cells,
packaged by the dozen.
Offer a new room without four walls?
This is a threat that should be destroyed.
The slightest difference.
An uneven breath.
A different colored uniform.
An uncontrolled, unconditioned
thought and whisper.
Witness the crime of individuality.
Punished before a new dawn
with a fiery death.
Destroy all threats of uniqueness.
Eliminate people that stand out from The Crowd.

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a budding flower

Why are you doing this to me?
A torment as endless as time.
Putting me through this torture?
Robbing me of my peaceful state
of false invulnerability.

My wandering thoughts sealed up
under the cover of dark brooding nights.
Awake and aware, desperately attempting
to shut the mind and body
from the enclosing, entrapping…

sunset remote north western Australia

Signs of a successful rewire…

Every day starts with the word ‘happy’.
This word is shared with strangers.
Often during each and all days.

Adversity is nothing more
than new opportunity in a disguise.
Crisis. What crisis?
Chicken Little has left the building.

Moments of unadulterated joy.
Over the smallest of pleasures.
Happy? Sad?
Riding that emotions wave
Slewing through all that can be washed away.

A singular Heart beats with metronome rhythm.
Blood flowing as slow as a trickling stream.
Never hot nor bothered.
And every breath — in and out — a molecular calm.
Stardust in an infinite Universe.


My spirit has been broken.

Eyes glazed.
Glimpses of a wild beast skulking.
Behind a façade.
Mind numbed from the boredom.
Insipid and near lifeless.
The appearance of tame.

Held in unwanted captivity.
Trapped in a cage.
Without any hope of escape.

Beware releasing this creature
back into its natural habitat.
High stakes to lose
unleashing the beast.
Destructive rampage?
Or withering starvation?
Inept at surviving in the real world
with the passing of freedom-less time.

Be merciful.

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Cristina Archer

political whipping girl (aka public policy adviser), writer (speculative fiction/poetry/life), aspiring photographer, wig collector, with Méchant Publishing

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