musings
-
Another year, another me. It’s a bit strange – I started this blog as a legitimate blog with some poems from time to time but over time it quickly became a place for me to publish pieces which I could not find homes for, or pieces I just wanted to let loose onto the world instead…
-
outside it is pouring,dark spilling over the sidewalklike a glass filled with the blood of something fragile.you and I are somewherein this flood of warmth. the rain continues to knockon the roof, a witnessto all of this nothing.time drips slow. quiet.you and I will part so soon.
-
It’s not as much a tussle as much as it is a boxing match; the dodging and weaving like swerving into traffic.The reason people must inevitably bury themselves is the same as why full stops must be full. You know the steps by heart:here is an empty space to be filled. Here is a name erased. Here is another…
-
Our issues melt away and run, like dirty water into drainage pipes. Black fishes into estuaries. When we are out of each other’s sight, we’ll be out of our minds. Flushed away and forgotten. Invariably some scum stays: stains on a manhole. Is it disgusting? For me to wish thusly: I want to know everything. What are you…
-
After ‘Mud man’ by Chikako Yamashiro the word spread across the town like rain. we lie, waiting to be exposed to wisdom from the heavens. we let the word blot us out, cake us in dirt; your hands, blooming from the earth like mangroves. we are tethered here, grasping at raindrop, leak, and tear. somewhere…
-
Photo by Max Langelott on Unsplash my tongue trips over teeth, mashes vowels into consonant, meaning trite and bright yellow like a hazard sign. it struggles to ease past past posts, a fat cumbersome man stuck in his own doorway. my tongue is the elephant, stuck in a room made of ivory, yellowed and polished, scared to make…
-
Every time it happened you told me that it was alright. That this is how the two of you clicked, like gears in some semiconductor. And every time I would think to myself of harmless bickering, like couples did in the dramas you watched. I found it funny once, as though the more you fought…
-
a subject lost in beard of old white men. boy bastards, us three. three accidents. don’t you get it? I want to be unknowable as a truth. lose the leashed thread. here is a map. walk it; I blank the names, distance distance.
-
it is the waking that is the hardest. the first step in sleep deprivation: you learn you miss dreaming of holes, the spaces between lines, the gap between the train and platform. you dream of ways in which to die, how the train brushes against your feet, the space just big enough for your thigh.…
-
Holes 1. When the holes started popping up so did the epiphanies. Men and women rushing to the mountain, eager to find where they fit. When it showed up on the telly I wanted to switch it off – but there I was, rewinding and rewinding the footage, trying to see if anyone I knew…
ugly stage 