Tuesday, 22 April 2014

talk with stranger

Stranger: Why do people not write to each other any more? Do they not have many things to say to each other? Are brief and frequent 140 characters or less enough? I don't know. I don't think so. Even if I don't have something specific to say, why should I not write to you at length? So handwritten letters have disappeared, and I miss them. Have emails disappeared too? Tell me it isn't so. Tell me people write, V, because I seem to be surrounded by instant messages. And I like my messages long and infrequent. I like to have expectations from paragraphs and then be let down, only to be taken somewhere else entirely. I want to return to knowing what it feels like to put someone else inside your head and have them whisper a story to your ears. I want to feel it tickle when people whisper. Don't you love that feeling? 

But then, why am I writing to you? Is this the equivalent of invading your personal space with things that may not directly concern you? Do you write to people, V? Do you write them letters and stories in ink, or do you scribe them in your head? Do you share your secrets with people? Tell me one, perhaps; and then go the rest of your life wondering if I kept your secret, or if there is now someone completely separate from anything to do with you who now knows your deepest, darkest secrets. Come to think of it, isn't that stranger me? What's your secret, S?

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

lotion

run through the raindrops
impatience revealing
princess drapped in purple cloth
below her whims and above the ceiling
I cant even let myself imagine
such a licorice scent
a reserved, dissecting lavender
heart-wrenching lament
teeth pressed down hard
with instinctual emotion
rub me I'm lotion.

Friday, 21 February 2014

I write

They ask you, ' do you write to understand yourself or to find yourself ?'
You pause, eyes lingering on an imaginary spot on the spotless wall.
Then, slowly and carefully, you navigate through minefield of words.

' I write so as not to lose myself any further. '

Monday, 17 February 2014

If People were Homes

if people were
homes.
she would spend her
days thinking of how
all she ever wanted was
to be a magnificent.
beautiful. mansion.
if only she would
understand that all i
ever wanted was a
tiny. little
cottage by the sea.




People Are Beautiful.



sometimes,
in the way they talk
or smile
or the way they bite their lip and
look angry, when they really just want
   a hug

sometimes,
people are beautiful


(and everybody but them can see it)

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

Spread Like Wildefires.

Oh passion,
spread like wildfires
and leap
across the river
of sheets between us.
Spread like wild flowers
and decorate our skin
with your loneliest
petals.
So long we have waited
to be scorched
and set aflame
by you.

Friday, 3 January 2014

Infinity

We are born to believe
We can't change a thing
We can't,
          and we never could.

But before you believe
The thing you believe
You must understand
       to
          be
             understood.

Last Night

One day i wished upon a star,
Though I knew it would not get me far,
For stars are dead when the dream is cast,
Just dust and ash of light- years past.