Unstable
Gazing outside I see a mirror image reversed in polar difference mind-bending decision I’ve made two seconds ago.
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Living in Reverse
Pages opened to welcome a new flavour withstanding and pungent. The magnitude of each night comes shoveled in like coal, like dirt, like mud thrifted from nature to be burned for heat recycled within the body. Shine carried by the pink sleeve of the pearl white sky creaks and croaks
Around the Clock
The man comes in for a ride each and every Sunday night. Right on the clock. Waits the man a thousand lonely seconds. Tick-tock of the clock. Second by second they lock the time down to the point that the man cannot close. He’s not the one to think
Stupid Questions
How does packing and travel feel so natural to me? How is freedom or the feeling of it inhibiting in such a consuming way? Why do shower droplets scale the wall this quickly? Are they in a hurry to retreat home? Or to be forgotten in the dirty city drain?