I look at her from afar,
Laughter spilling from her soft lips,
Eyes screwed up in mirth,
Hand resting on his sleeve.
My heart constricts, fear renews,
And a thousand bejeweled words,
Are buried under the desire, the ache and the bile,
That rise with her smile.
Her mundane, uninteresting talk,
Washes over me as her animated eyes,
And feather ( Read more... )

I am made of memories
Like photographs stuck on a string
With clothespin
I am a series of thoughts
One commencing from the tail-end of another
Like a giant ouroboros
I am a web of consciousness
Ensnaring, seducing
into the deepest darkest pit
Of an entangled existence
Wires crossed over
Synapses misfiring
I am made of half baked theories
And ( Read more... )

i:
feel like nothing
like am nothing
nor was ever anything
nor will amount to something
insides:
scooped out like a melon
leaving a great gaping void
in the center of my chest
e m p t y
of thought, action, motivation,
drained of energy
of life of joy
of everything
e    m       t     y
of identity
e                     y
in heart
body
mind
( Read more... )

( Read more... )

You ask me why I’m so angry all the time
I laugh because if I don’t I’ll cry,
I laugh because if I don’t I’ll cry.
And then you’ll call me emotional and hysterical
As if we’re still in the era of old where simple female reactions
Were pathologised and the bold locked up for being “mentally ill”.
You ask me why I’m angry and I simply scoff
And ( Read more... )

i look up at the stars
and marvel
at the synapses firing
in those who looked at the sky
and thought of
making something out of scattered balls of fire
where three dots in the sky
become the belt of orion the hunter
and the north star remains
the constant navigator
i look up at the skies
and see the stars as
they saw before me
and marvel. 

She holds life in her palm ( Read more... )

She sits alone,
in the dark recesses of
her mind. Memories resurface
like a drowning child.
Things never imagined
mar her bodily form,
Her mind is retreated,
into a world of its own.
She serves those above her,
she serves those below,
she thrashes and cries out, but she never stirs.

Images fade into darkness and days pass her by,
an empty shell of the ( Read more... )