a haloed body through frosted glass. like a painting, far away through boiled cabbage leaves. tape-bound bodies haloed in sugar-sweet windows. brokenness bound mended melted. the seams of our souls in technicolour, through yellowing film like teeth. like piss. hidden clocks. everywhere everywhere, as gold-tipped tassels fight the tick tocking time with raindrop love. ribbons, ribbons, ribbons. a cabbaged halo. a frosted body. a piss-toothed … Continue reading time/ribbons
A dream is a beautiful thing. But as with all beauty, it is fragile, ruinable. Sad. A dream, by which I mean an aspiration, a goal. But more than a goal. A dream is romantic, improbable, dazzling, impractical. It sets alight the heart and is guarded by it, not for the scrutiny of peering third parties. Not for their ponderings or suggestions. No, a dream … Continue reading A dream
It’s one of those old hurts. A moon-shaped crevice dug into the skin, a bit lumpy and scarred over in dark pigment. It is mostly dormant. But on the occasion that it is awakened, the hurt is just that: occasional. It is the hurt of a light scratch over a an old scar. A surprise graze, brushing past the corner of a table, making an … Continue reading an old hurt
we build our dreams childlike fantasies. versions of life that propel and inspire. what hurts the most isn’t the unattainable fantasy but the almost real. within reach. close enough to touch. mirages. that slip through our fingers like rock turned to sand and so, we pick ourselves up and start again. Continue reading dreams
The cup was yours this morning. It’s funny how it’s yours one day and mine the next. Coffee and tea, tea and coffee. A small clay creation – a model of those little white porcelain ones you get with your jasmine tea at a yum cha. But this one is different. Misshaped and glazed with an array of colours that don’t go well together. The … Continue reading where’s the coffee?
Do you ever feel alone? Just lonely. And still, cocooned by the chatter and the noise and the laughter. But disjointed, disconnected. People. Like weak magnets drawn together by nothing but an arbitrary, imaginary force. Perhaps the most significant imaginary force to ever believe in. But still, inevitably, we are separate. Our worlds unshared, unknown, untouched. Do we share them? Some magnets … Continue reading alone