Ode to the old me

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


le jeu d’imitation.

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.


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.