To open my chest cavity with the gentlest knife and access my lungs would surely gift her the utmost vulnerability on my part.

She could shift my ribs and pull them apart with her delicate fingers the way a scraping tool can divide the paint of a water color.

She’d grace my heart with her open palm and keep it beating until her body would tire the same way mine did.

As close to that point as possible though, I’d learn to continue beating on my own.

Our love was toxic and neither of us could benefit at once, but perhaps if we didn’t try so hard to prove it we could’ve survived.

She’d pull away.

The slender blades that were her careful fingers would caress my lungs to feel the faint breath I was given for one last time before she went.

Although her touch was gracious, it was filled with sharp ghosts that invaded my flesh and sliced through these lungs of mine and as much as I loved her, I couldn’t breathe.



original image


Signing off for the year, my name is Marshall Xiathum. Thanking you for following and reading my content.

Inspired by Tragic Beauty

Twelve hours flickered away as the cascading gloom of night scattered away to unveil the looming sunrise. Her phone was silent in those ticking hours whereas it’d normally be consumed with a familiar voice that spoke of nothing in particular. If not that voice, at least gentle breathing, muffled talk from exhaustion, or even the buzzing of the phone as it alerted a text message. All of the above had been absent tonight. Amongst this bewildering silence, the girl sat upright to gaze downwards at her phone, Nothing. Why hadn’t her love spoken to her tonight?

Upon past scenarios the two had shared, silent nights normally indicated not-so-accidental accidents. There had been a lot of them too. Overdoses, unzipped arms, rope necklaces, occasional flying from the roof of the closest building that looked high enough.  Each silence was unsettling. Help never did what it was suppose to though. Misery loved only company and company the two were, misery and all.

The girl stood and shuffled to her bedroom door, the rattling of her air conditioner desperately attempting to keep up with her human need for heat sounding constantly throughout the air. Over her thin tank top and baggy pyjama pants, she donned her winter coat as well as boots and a hat. She opened the door. Then another. Soon, she had embarked outside. Snow crunched under her boots as the thick footwear mercilessly flattened any material in her path. Her steps were meaningful. Nothing else in her life had been.


It had been twenty minutes of rigid breathing due to frozen air and groaning snow until the girl had finally reached a small and dilapidated residence. Sun peeked hopefully over the horizon. Its rays hugged the fronts of trees and the surface of snow, evading the shadows like the darkness was toxic. The snow was untouched in this area, but among that virgin snowfall that blanketed the ground there lied a mess of crimson hair and familiar curves. She didn’t rush. She didn’t run. Snow rhythmically crunched under her once again as she approached the only origin of color.

There, another girl laid bare. Her light eyes with the darkest rings from exhaustion were wide open. Her skin had become the faintest white to the point of translucency and every inch of it was visible. Even the lips that once parted for an expected kiss were now clasped tightly shut and tinted blue. Like the snow that bathed the earth around her, she was still. Untouched.

The girl that stood over the crippled form of beauty would’ve been devastated if she hadn’t had known how badly the other wanted this. The sun continued to climb up the sky and as it did she sat beside the girl, took the hypothermic hand that lie motionless, clasped it in hers, and brought it to her lips.

“You were as cold as winter before sunrise, yet you could be as fragile as porcelain. Indescribable in a way, but it seems the amount of words I could use never stopped.

Daybreak has came and went. You are gone.”


I wrote my Inspired By piece on Tragic Beauty by Mechanical Rose. I literally went through their entire profile and printed out every single piece on the webpage. I enjoy their work thoroughly. I actually used a modified version of the piece itself in the closing dialogue line of my short story type of thing. All credit to the original writer for that, really. Thank you.

3D Glasses

They’ve sat idle in your drawer for nearly four years now. The two-tone lenses popped out from the last time you thought you could be ‘edgy’ and wear them because they looked cooler than your actual glasses. Your vision was impaired with them on, but heck, they made your face look proportionate for once.

Wearing them isn’t cool anymore. You only have them today for a presentation in the previous hour in which you referred to the time when everyone did wear them. You should really throw them away. They don’t have much purpose sitting in your drawer.

If only you weren’t a genuine hoarder and could gather enough willpower to dispose of the old memories you’ve acquired at movie theatres.

If only they were still cool.


Enoch is reliant on time and obsessively checks it as a side effect of his OCD. He eventually meets someone who distracts him long enough for Enoch to no longer be strictly dwelling on clocks, while still respecting his other compulsions. Eventually, Enoch becomes reliant on this someone and realizes that a ‘forever’ can be found in many things. Not just the unreal constructs that abide us.

Click for Script.

You are, I am

You are a meadow

I am only a flower

You’re greater than me


My frail petals are no match

For your gorgeous colors vast


Your long beautiful petals melt my heart

Causing me ultimate happiness

Please never leave me for I love you


Not even the sun shining

It’s golden rays can compare

i n d i g o


Looks like the pigment of a blue pen

Perforated ink examined up close

Darkest dyes analysed and categorized as-


Sounds like liquified gasps as you begin to drown

In the water that isn’t clear, that is instead black

Blackened with French tea oxidized to appear-


Tastes like a brimful stomach, but a bare tongue

Artificial flavour is only a memory

On your tongue stained-


Feels like the familiar morphed into the unknown

But really, you just haven’t seen the neighborhood

Darkened with that midnight-


Can consume the senses with subtle deceit and proves to be a continuous enigma.


I chose to write a color poem as I feel like colors can harbor the most unexpected emotions. I feel as if color poems are the explanations of colors to someone who is blind. You use emotions and other senses to describe a concept that appears so simple on the surface, but is actually so much more complex. I think that’s what poetry is about. Indigo is my favorite color because it’s such a rich mix between blue and purple. It’s a mysterious color in my eyes.

I first began writing poetry in fifth grade and I really liked it. I’ve always been a ‘right brain’ kind of kid and very artistically inclined. I had never gone so in depth with it before this class though and I’m so glad I was able to experience so many different types of poetry. I still very much love poetry.


Is it silly of me to think of you?

A thought reminiscing in my still heart

You’re gone, you’ve left. But what else can I do?

But ponder that soul, that work of pure art.

You still message me occasionally

Nothing much more than a simple hello

Have you an idea what it does to me?

Explain why you left. Why you had to go.

I suppose my grip wasn’t tight enough

Because I let you slip away from me

I keep blaming myself, its getting tough

Your absence is ruining what’s left, I see

I only wish you had stayed much longer

Longer would have made this still heart again stir

Dirty Limerick

-Wee bits and bobs of a background-

I’ve been reading dirty limericks since I was like, ten. I love them. I think they’re funny as heck. I prefer them to any other type of limerick and I can probably only write dirty limericks. There will probably be more later.


There once was a man from New York

Who claimed he made love to a spork

With tines in his arse

Disbelief became sparse

So his friends offered his a fork



If My Love is Indecent, Then Shoot Me

{S U M M A R Y}

— Living in the harsh city of Samara, Russia, our story follows two Russian teens named Alexei Klokov and Nikolai Entsky who struggle with homophobia in an unaccepting and unforgiving environment. They undergo multiple attacks and threats primarily engineered by Valery Volkov, a popular and muckraking teenager that attends high school with them. Soon, threats by Valery turn into actions as Alexei and Nikolai both spiral into developing troubles with the law. —




He threw up blood and vodka, but all that was susceptible in his mouth was the taste of bitter regret and filth. Shredded skin riddled his bloodied, scraped palms and as he pressed them against the scarlet streaked asphalt to push himself up, the exposed raw muscle in his hands recoiled in defense. Crumbs of concrete and brick littered the open wounds that blanketed his battered body and before it could guide way to further irritation, once again, a veil of black engulfed his vision.

When the boy’s eyes warily fluttered open, the bruises that clad them had forced them shut once again. He could feel faintly, familiar fingertips dance across the skin that clung to his collarbones, identifying the teenager as malnourished. As those fingers continued their dance, the thick accent with heavy rolling R’s that belonged to the owner of those fingers soon reached the boy’s ears.

“Alexei…” The harsh consonants curled around his senses, luring his eyes to open just a bit.

“Nikolai…” His voice was careened in relief even though his vocal chords still crackled within his throat. The one he referred to as Nikolai leaned down slowly until his breath could reach out and brush against Alexei’s cheek.

“I appreciate the fact you’re still alive.” Nikolai cooed to the other boy. Due to Russia’s unspoken precedence, especially in Samara where the two lied, these men displaying the emotions they had for each other in the way they did, could easily be punishable by law. Thus, they refrained from the typical “I love you’s” that other couples threw around capriciously. An “I love you” would lead to a silent and mutual “goodbye” at Samara’s nearest execution hall.

Before Alexei could utter a sound, Nikolai placed a kiss to the teen’s lips and stood.

“I swear, I’m gonna beat Valery’s-”

“Don’t.” The bruised boy muttered, stopping the other in his tracks. “I deserved it.”

“We do not deserve this. Alright?” Nikolai rifled within his deep-set trench-coat pockets as he spoke, grasping at the odds and ends of the little bottles that filled the small compartments.

Alexei’s cerulean eyes flitted upwards to meet Nikolai’s sunken in hazel ones. Silently, he coerced the other to resume back to his side.

“Listen, my beautiful black and blue boy. I just care about you and want you to be safe. Always.” Nikolai leaned his forehead down to rest gently upon Alexei’s shoulder as he spoke.

He never quite understood the nickname Nikolai gave to him. His bruises had never been neither black nor blue, let alone both. They either adorned him with throbbing lavenders or fading greens and yellows. After contemplation he always concluded that it could be his hair and eyes. He never bothered to ask though, knowing that because of Nikolai’s needs for terms of endearment, it’d didn’t necessarily need a reason. Even though Nikolai was eighteen, exactly a year and five months older than him, Alexei still felt like the other was the complete guardian over him.

For a while, the two lied there; Nikolai eventually crawled into the bed to lie beside Alexei. They spoke in hushed whispers for the time being, Nikolai wrapping his arms tightly around Alexei’s shoulders to pull him closer.




As the shot echoed around him, Alexei’s entire world suddenly became inaudible. His eyes met Nikolai’s as the man reaching out to him suddenly jutted to an abrupt and stiff stance. The man’s eyes flicked down slowly until he eventually collapsed onto the concrete below. Alexei dashed to him, skidding to rest beside him.

Nikolai was shot. Moments consumed with horrific stares of mutual realization flirted between the two until the injured man had finally mustered enough strength to speak.

“My beautiful black and blue boy…” Nikolai choked out through a smile, reaching up a weary hand to run his twitching fingers through Alexei’s tousled locks. The boy’s eyes already began to prick with tears, his emotions erupting within himself only to be lodged in his throat and quicken his breathing.

He could see it. He could see Nikolai’s eyes beginning to glaze over in the pitiful way that fish’s do when they’ve been trapped too long in too small of a tank. Alexei’s chest began to surge rapidly. Those hazel eyes that persuaded him into smiles, comfort, and guilty nights were fading. Every ‘I appreciate you’ they had ever spoken was embedded deep within those hazel eyes and they were vanishing.

“You know… I love you a whole lot.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I love you so much. For so long I’ve loved you, Alexei Klokov.”


As the short breathes ceased and all Alexei could render was his own rapid respirations, panic shot over his face clear as day.

“Wait. Please. We’re supposed to run away together and be happy. We were going to be so happy. Nikolai. Nikolai!”

He attempted to shift the body to sit up in a position in which Alexei could wrap his arms around the waist of the other. Burying his face into Nikolai’s still chest, his whimpered cries became muffled sobs by the thick coat the man always wore. He loved that damn coat… The body slumped over slightly and Alexei’s chest began to heave harder.

“Stop… please. You saved me, remember? I can save you now. You don’t have to do this. You’re fine.” As the body failed to give him a response, Alexei angrily scraped away the tears that streaked his face with a dirty sleeve.

“I know I’m an ass sometimes and I ignore you, but you can’t ignore me. Not now. Please. I’m begging you for Christ sake, Nikolai. You’re fine. I know you are. You can’t pull this shit right now, Nikolai Entsky, you son of a bitch. We’re in so much trouble…” Silence.

“I’m in so much trouble. I need you… I love you.”

Before he could continue, heavily armored hands grabbed at Alexei’s shoulders, pulling the boy back in jerking motions and away from the body that once again became crippled on the ground.

“NO! STOP! NIKOLAI!” Alexei’s voice cracked sharply as he was torn from the other, his limbs desperately flailing against the force of the men. The distance between the two was increasing and slowly, the boy’s physical, emotional, and mental strength was left to nothing.




As Alexei walked to the podium, the whispers of judgmental and onlooking strangers hushed and the quiet swishes of his dragging feet became the only sound that broke the silence. His eyes had become sunken in, much like Nikolai’s had been and his skin was dirty and taught to his bones. Although his face remained expressionless, his eyes were burning with tainted memories.

“Alexei Klokov, you have been accused of indecency on the account of homosexuality…” A robed man stood across Alexei at the podium, his loud booming voice would usually be rendered as terribly intimidating to the boy, but at this point he couldn’t render much at all.

Within the cell in which held him captive amongst ‘similar offenders’, much older men and much different circumstances, his mind and body became the ancient ruins of Rome. Once glorious and adored, now decayed with neglect and abuse. Filthy. All his violated mind could imagine though was Nikolai. Nothing at that moment made sense except him.

The way his hair created those specific ringlet curls of honey blonde when he got sweaty. His constant finger twitching that accompanied his ADHD. The way he doted on Alexei whenever he was around with secret cues of affection. Always finding someway  to sneak around. Being careful to watch his language in front of Alexei. Even though the other swore just as much as he, Nikolai did it out of respect, but his temper did get the best of him sometimes. Alexei could always pinpoint every exact action or thought Nikolai had and could easily produce reasoning behind it. Now though? It’s all different.

Suddenly, his train of thought went south. Flashbacks to moments in which Alexei screamed at Nikolai to go away because he couldn’t handle the consequences if anyone found out. Nikolai never raised his voice in return. Ignoring Nikolai for days in an attempt to push him away, push away the feelings he had. Nikolai never left though. Alexei’s feelings never left either.

Nikolai is gone now. Regardless, his feelings aren’t. They never would be. He would always love Nikolai Entsky.

“Alexei Klokov, do you plead guilty to indecency?”

“If my love is indecent, then shoot me”



How Internalized Homophobia  Works

photo creds: Revel and Riot