Our heartbeat harmonises with that of the earth: the shifting of the tectonic plates and the low murmuring of cicadas. Nostalgia is a liar. Night air perfumed with reckless abandon, the sky painted saffron and the swing set in our backyard, these things don't carry the weight of existence the way we do — wasting…Read more Silken dreams.
I hope my tread fluctuates. A mere slip and this whole nightmare comes to an end. Coveting for normalcy is like reaching for a thread that doesn't weave with the helix I possess — sanity seems fabricated. My experiences corroborate my statement, although my plea falls on deaf ears. Better yet, there's entertainment in scraping…Read more Ode to the old me
Life goes on but somehow mine feels static. Every fibre of my being opposes movement, opposes me. To align oneself with the cosmos, to return to unfinished conversations and unnoticed apologies, only to be left to pick your skin apart piece by piece. Been portraying a weak imitation of happiness since eleven, five years and…Read more le jeu d’imitation.
Forgive her for enveloping you in orchid chains, she did not care for the ache, she felt sorry for herself. She repeated it over and over, like a broken record, I am hurt. Her name tastes like knives in your mouth now and you ponder if the hollow void was worth pouring cascades of love…Read more June 5.
I have met this storm before — the one that sends me to the ground and hurls another curse at me. I leap for the black hole, the void that pulls at my heart strings like gravity. The threads of my soul slowly come undone and stitch to another home. A person to call home.…Read more Salt.
Web of your thoughts at the tip of your tongue, when spun at the right time could put gossamer and tulle to shame. Not only does a tangerine red burn behind your eyes but a soft murmur echoes within the confines of where you lay your weary heart. Perhaps I can't bring myself to go…Read more Atlas Hands
On days when I feel hollow inside I can hear my organs drum together in harmony, I plunge my fists in roses and lilies and fill the unfamiliar emptiness with a temporary bliss. My heart is full of obsesity of guilt and insomnia so I shall rip it apart piece by piece and fill the…Read more Being Whole