Sometimes Dark is the Only Colour You Can See At Night.

Searching for an answer
in the midst of a blackout
on a sweltering summer night,
I felt
like if I could just wrap my hands around it
and feel it suffocate
then maybe the question would detach itself from me-
fall away, softly
decay.

The Seeker

Before memory could rub the sleep out from her drowsy eyes,

the language of hunger

was carved into my bones.

The precisive marks of it’s calligraphy

cut through membrane,

and slicing into marrow,

licked the tender heat

of my blood.

Burn With Me.

The wind carried a whisper of a thought I’d tossed into the sun to burn.

The ashes from the fire collected storm clouds,
leaving behind a trail...