Silken dreams.

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.

Advertisements

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

Salt.

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.