Saturday, October 17, 2015

get bigger

oh, there's a poem 
in this irony
that I'm dressing up in silver 
and gold glints 
each night
and feeling like 
the biggest fraud

feeling weak
feeling dull in my eyes 
soft of voice
barely able to cope with the day itself

shedding tears before breakfast
like I'm a child back at Uni
crying my way
through my un-favorite thing 
failing only because
I think that I'm failing

my body always betrays me
it won't let me lie
I can put on a face
but my body will yell the truth
until everyone is listening

and me -
reveling in my humiliation. 

Thursday, October 8, 2015

life.model

It would seem
they're all
watching me but
actually, I'm watching them
whilst they're all distracted
with thinking they're
watching me.

Sunday, October 4, 2015

post-meditated

When I open my eyes afterwards, the world is washed in a metallic cyan. I'm that sleepy kind of alert which you feel after sharing skin with another person. I can hear the world with immense clarity: the silence of empty space amongst the gentle wave-like crash of cars, the creaking of swings holding small bodies in the playground next door. The surface of me is breath-held still against the bright white air. Blood and atoms are rushing through my insides. I am an Arctic stillness with a powerful undercurrent. I am potential and possibility. I am with only myself, and myself is embedded in the world.