why do we anticipate

pain; like it is meant

for us – landlords; as if

claiming ownership for

what ultimately belongs

to none other than this

land; laid beneath our feet

growth system

we thrive in this system

of absolute reliance; on

the triumphant success

and unjust downfalls of

another; drawing upon

them; conclusions though

inaccurate- in order to

redefine and establish our

personal growth; only in

accordance to the shallow

view we ascertain from

our eyes pointed; downward




despite darkness;

lift your hands in

gratitude; for the

utter abundance

that surrounds

your core


an internal plea for forgiveness, was murmured – but it never left my head. as my pupils strain themselves; reading words of my own, written to another. forgive me, i want to say. for the times i grew brittle and cold. yet, in turn rotated the blame and inflicted it unto you. you were a mirror, who held up a reflection for a person i did not want to meet in the eye. for the nights, i spoke with brutal honesty, without any consideration for your threshold for holding hurt. for the words, i threw across the room in a thoughtless rage. there were too many times, my speech churned themselves into a spell of misconstrued intentions; this was what i should have considered apologising for.

my empathy escapes me, and once again; i am consumed by the wrath of pride.

27/4 11.03

perhaps, part of the reason i choose to orbit myself in relentless metaphors is because i am completely and utterly afraid of confronting my true desires and uncertainties. it is difficult to express anything in a direct manner; without being presented with the raw, unrefined and honest shape of matters at hand.

words, possess a fierce grip on both the writer and viewer; upon being written, narrated – enunciated; painstakingly part by part.



knot / sight

tonight, my spirit is

hung like bundled yarn

structured coils, guard

it’s belly; the middle from

where loose ends, fray into

a spiteful sight of common

litter. this night, my being

is half-strung – equally

knotted amongst this

tangled mess of

pointless ponder.



open blue

the repulsion of a

habitual inertia –

a weening of

a snag, a peck; begins

to seem less dire, less

necessary than once


an urge, subdued;

rolling into oblivion.

washed in meek undertones

of musty greys and dusted

pink – cast out into

the void promise of

our wild blue yonder




body / part

body parts of

your body –

the ridge of your nose,

a stark bulge of flesh.

tear drop eyelids, thin lips

furrows between your brows

the curb of your shoulders; sloping

or the arch of a shoulder blade.

flat soles of your feet, jutting

angles, awkward on your elbows.

out numbered toes and

plump fingers linked

to knuckle knobs.

dark release

intimidated by

attention, i shun my

face from rays of

light. darkness

remained a familiar

friend, despite it’s

fateful grip; with

which it clung to me.

her claws dive into

my flesh; ignoring

my plea for release,

till there is only skin,

ripped and spun

in a

swirl of blood.


strength in a room

sometimes strength

is a body in a

tiny room, heaving

itself over. a spine

floating above ground;

foreign driftwood afloat

in the swell of pain – healing

isn’t always picking at

itches, sometimes it is

skin; flagging for