In 2012 I sat down with myself and wrote myself a few little notes. Life was not going well.
The notes resurfaced tonight when I was cleaning my room : the writing in pink, some blue, some scratched out, some typed, pages ripped from here and there, some legible others scribbled fast, ready to catch the words that would fleet too soon: “I know when he said, ‘just trying to find myself’ that meant he’s trying someone else”.
The 6-year-younger version of me is a mess. Ironically, it’s hard to ascertain whether she was a bigger mess that the one living in me now (and delaying the cleaning of said room, whi
(NON) Fiction
Out again.
A dainty
Fragile
Vintage
Ceramic ashtray
Floral and hand-painted
Now manhandled indelicately as he exhales,
Makes me fleet and spring by habit
To catch it
As he sets it
So eloquently
And gently
….. on the edge.
Guitar in arms, cradled around a bony body like a lover;
His lips parted ready to boast another tale
I’m wide awake but still, it’s 3am
And I should get to going home cos I have work from like 10 – 5pm and I’m feeling kinda frail.
But my head is spinning, I’ve lived a thousand nights in one,
Hoping it’s worth it for all of the lies that I have spun.
Pass that
happy never after
so you did it; and I knew it was coming but it still spun me out like you used to spin out doing those kicks in your living room and getting me to film you and that time I took photos of you under the guise of ‘art’ and I took my parents’ wrath and beating for you and the name calling and we were just kids making pizza and walking around the neighbourhood discovering ourselves more than discovering each other, just admit it that is what it all was. convenience and retrospect is a bitch, having found the friends we needed in each other in that car park when you stayed with me so no one would lay a finger bu
We operate in timeframes.
Fragments.
Stapled together disjointed in the ever-circling loop of our minds. Each timeframe so separate and individual that its very fibre, its being, must be naturally questioned and its adhesiveness to its dichotomous partner, doubted.
And yet they spin together. Since time immemorial.
One fragment following the other. Never two paired together to share the bond of common ground or experience. There is no such luxury or ease. Each as different and transcendent but also transient, as its neighbour: that being their only similarity.
And yet they coexist. To torment, to question, to amaze. To form your thought