The entries below are purely fiction. 9.14.20 I like the colour grey. The more and more it rains, the more and more I like the colour grey. It’s funny how different the city looks when it rains. All the pedestrians take out their umbrellas, and from my balcony they look like little, multi-coloured Pac Men,…
Tag Archives: writer
9.26.2018
on perfect Perfect is what perfect does, It molds lies into half-truths, Photo filters and fake smiles. Perfect is what perfect says, A blonde girl and a venti cappuccino, Half skim, half whip, half-truth. Perfect is what perfect feels, Like a mask that doesn’t quite fit, A dream half-realized, half -perfect, half-true.
8.31.18a
I can’t wait for school to start So I can dissolve into heaps of studying; So my brain can expand, Rather than caving in onto itself– Thinking and overthinking– Until ideas become mush And memories become clinical dissections.
4.24.18
On my way home I watch the water; The rain patters against the shore, And a grey-blue haze erupts, Like a heavy-set cloud seeking friends. Quickly the creature engulfs the land, Consuming buildings which fade As if towering to heaven, And dismembering trees To branchless stumps Inconsiderately cut too high up. The spot before me…
4.20.18
I wake up late. Change into an all black outfit, slap sunscreen on my face and wrap an emerald scarf around my neck. My first bus is late– but it’s always late and I’ve made it a habit of catching the one at 7:44am knowing it will arrive at 7:57am. I run out my house…
4.19.18
Two little girls on the bus had a fight. I catch only the end of it As I take my seat in the back. They fall silent after the last hurtful word is thrown, But stay seated next to each other. Three stops pass and the one in brown prepares herself to get off. Though,…
03.14.18
I’m attracted to people who drain the life from me, either as a result of lack of maturity or ambition.
Home II
When it rains my shoulders sting: Sometimes even before the drops hit the ground. My bones can tell when the sky is grey, and when the rain is coming. My body knows this land and my skin reacts when I leave. Hives cover my body and my sleep pattern is no pattern at all. A…
Aug 23, 2017
I need to stop crying at work– but God, I’ve been so emotionally preoccupied. As soon as my manager started talking I immediately thought this is another conversation about failure it’s one I’m having with someone else. My manager thought I was hungover from the night before, because my eyes were puffy and like clockwork…
Letters and Laundry
The house is untidy, My mind is a scattered mess. So I put the sheets to soak And my thoughts to rest.
