words scrawled on an unknown walllast names taken without context faces as smooth as a washboard mingling in a sea of cotton buds and in the air there is capitalismthat quiet + usual summer bloomas we walk down the red carpet of suburbia and middle-class livingand everyone is dressed and drapedin a thick viscous layer […]
Tag: anxiety
FREEWRITING EXERCISE #98
head empty no thoughtshead on backwardseyes staring into the past like beams of light in a thick endless fogthere’s so much anxiety my brain is wrapped within like bubble wrapI close the door and leave the housewith my unhappy face onI close the door and dim the lightsand take off my unhappy faceto put on […]
FREEWRITING EXERCISE #97
A ball on a table, my thoughtsunspool and drape off the edge,sentences unravelling their silkas my words break formation, their knees buckling under theweight of yet another period. I am constantly catching up to the kite-strings of my owntongue, and all its strugglesagainst the walls of its cell.Apostrophe, apostrophe. Nothing makes sense anymoreand it is […]
FREEWRITING EXERICSE #86
Silence, then. Silence on a silver platter, silence in the central column of our spines.Silence in the hallways. Threesteps down a wooden staircase,the familiar gallop of a manrushing on his way to work;his hands running down the bannister as though a flourishon a keyboard. In the deep thick mud of my insignificant anxieties I find […]
FREEWRITING EXERCISE #45
a flat cap, a smushed shoe, the lawn cuttings left out orphaned and buzzcut bleeding steady, a brokendown car by the side of a cruise liner, a ship at the bottom of the sea,a cabin locked and floodingwith all of the world’s answers within it, like a child rubbing their stomach,a pot-bellied pig waiting to […]
FREEWRITING EXERCISE #20
Deputise the means of resistance /I’m folding over in my cell-room of misplaced desire / scrabbling at stone walls with a stolen spoon / oh give me an answer you quiet / give me the key you masked bastard / your face forever in the shadow of an oversized ego / I walked into this […]
this poem is not about you, but that’s up to you
I start off every poem by changing the font to Hoefler. Makes me feel a bit more … dignified … as though I have earned my right to say dear world I am a confessional poet when I never really do fess up and do I really write any poetry and this too is another […]
Fine.
Trepidation creeps on the spine, a tightrope act. We are both audience and whipped animal. Who will hold my hand? Hopefully myself. Every day I see is its own dying breath. This is the future we walk towards, a destination we cannot afford, a world of our own choosing but not of our making. This […]
ugly stage 