At night you're pretty loud, and your cheering whispers that gently clasp my face soothe my burning like wax gauzes. Night is a seamless, trapeze of serious labyrinths but you seem to know your way like a blind man does; you measure and lift your feet with your eyes closed and follow the subtly dying …
13/03/2018: A Log
I woke up distant and resigned from my usual state of being, a state of pretence where I wake up not looking terrible in my face and my mother unsuspecting of anything wrong with me. Though sometimes, when it’s only us, she catches the whiff of my sadness like I am guilty of something; I …
12/03/2018: A Log
It is supposedly a college day; however I find myself tucked away from sunlight, probably because the sun, while benign, feels deceptive and false here; while as the spring is approaching on its hooves rather soon. I’m home and I’m looking at the world through a wooden frame: a window and a room full of …
A Habit of Loneliness over Early Hours
We're all loveless and you're not insomniac, You're just used to sleeping late. You're just sleep deprived and crying under your rugged quilt because of the brightness of your blatant loneliness. Your sleep cycle is terrible. You're like a window that has on it's edge a bunch of sunglasses but no sun shining at all, …
To Womanhood
Dear women, men may never be able to account for all the love you've transpired upon them with open arms and no expectations, but times have changed and you need to seize the day. A passage from Shakespeare's Love’s Labour’s Lost is very well beset upon all of you and the marvel you're, here goes: …
After You
After you, comes darkness. Darkness of the night, And a violent darkness of you. After you, it talks in a language I understand but can't speak, (Or maybe a little.) And I talk in a language it understands but can't speak. Or won't. After you, is nothing. After you is quiet and quiet for hundred …
My Angry God and I
We’re going 39.76 miles per hour, I know because I have asked my Google assistant to convert it. Angry God has bled while chopping firewood for the blazing summer to come and crackling thunder sends the balcony doors wide open. And leaning against the window, mild nausea wants me to vomit while twisted …