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A pound of flesh

A reborn story. I wanted it to be up here by itself, rather than submerge it within another. Give it its own legs to walk on, so to speak. * She had just given birth and he released he didn’t love her. He shifted his stance from one foot to another, dancing in spot to … Continue reading

A day

Everything is possible under the sun If you just bend and bow And sway under a disco ball That is stuck and heavy in the sky Just like the dancers beneath it Who step on concrete In hopes of becoming as Solid and complete But who often forget that there are cracks Caused by the same baking … Continue reading

Nuptial nibble

Dear dear and dearest, I do not know much about marriage, but I do know a bit about love. In fact, love is the reason I have the honour of writing to the both of you on the most special of days. I have fallen for a girl and she has fallen for you two in quite … Continue reading

The birds

She smiles The birds matching The arch Of her lips With their wings And I’m lifted If only for a little while Until the birds squawk Louder than her words Which say something something About something something else, Though I’m sure the sentences Vibrate into the sky Tickling the webbed feet above Like feathers on … Continue reading

Knowing better

Dear dear, I wonder if we are in love. I don’t mean this as an insult to all two years and four months of us. Those individuals that we were, the individuals we have become, and those people we have yet to be are vital. They are important people, even if I don’t believe it … Continue reading

Soaked in summertime

Everyone dies in the summer When the sun doesn’t set. It just sits in the sky Like a scar that won’t heal But instead only gushes Hot, infected, Blood Over everything. It is murder in broad daylight.

Mantra of art

The sun dies in the room when you block the window. I should have heard you come in, but I was writing a letter. Few things can disturb me in the mesmerisation of composition. It wasn’t so much the content, but the mantra of art. A writer who stops writing for anything else but more … Continue reading


I’m drunk and feeling good and I might as well tell them. Heck. They keep asking questions. So many questions. Why this? Why that? Why aren’t you answering truthfully? They aren’t saying the last one, but it’s suggested in their shrugs and their coughs and the silence afterwards. They can tell I’m dodging. They see … Continue reading


There is a poem about unhappiness That is written so beautifully That the author who penned it Knew she would never scrawl Something like it ever again And so she got up, Put a gun into her mouth, And clicked Only to find that she had Picked up a water gun instead That shot a … Continue reading

An answer

Look. You’re okay. It’s just another rejection. Look. You’re okay. You’re still typing, still banging off on a keyboard. It’s got to mean something, particularly because you wrote the word meaning and that means something, right? You don’t know. But you’ve looked and you’re still here, wherever that is. You wish it were someplace else … Continue reading