train
I only feel like I belong to the city when I’m on the train. An anonymous figure perfectly slotting into the puzzle crafted by thousands of other commuters.
Jigsaw
My dreams are potent at the moment. I suppose that's what I get for not sleeping until 3.30 and then waking up at 6 every day: constantly opening my eyelids mid-dream so that for the rest of the day, my life is stained by a jigsaw of abstract images.
noisy
I played the rain away:
i’ve never liked summer
When it is empty again
And the summer sun looms,
watch me
I’m made of minutes
That tick away inside of me
that throw me up
good morning
you left
the curtains open
South
Welcome to London.
That's all I keep thinking as I hammer my finger into the pedestrian crossing button. I know it doesn’t do anything, but I like to imagine the city feels some pain at my disposal of street etiquette; wait for the lights to turn green, press the button once etcetera.
Tangerine
Eleven forty five-
I ate my heart
Out my chest;
Watched it congeal,
Squirm, and bloom
Around my fingers,
Clinging for life.
The Kitsch in the Dress
The kitsch
In the dress-
Unimpressed Empress.
East
In the distance, the breakwaters surface irregularly. The intervals come and go; small shoals dashing to the surface. Way out there the water is much deeper- its touch barely reaches my toes. Insecure and cold, I bury my feet under the sand imitating the stretching miles of empty shells.
2020
Wind sweeps across
our streets
a silent city
only foxes roam.
Mother: Nature
I’m stuck
In the nighttime-
In the cracks of my ceiling-
In the yellow corridors of the hospital ward.