extinguished

time is tired;
i've been breathing through burnt lungs
travelling an airway of ashes
and empty cherry trees
waiting for a pause or go.
i'm built on a marathon of running tears
with no side street joints to rest and recover
mouth dry, body thirsty
i licked the glue and left you a post-it,
let it attach like mould 
and rolled away on a wheel of realities
quiet, and caught by nothing
i felt like the runway before flight
knees knocking, wrists cracking
never inhaled this deeply
what did i write, what did i say
i never remember but i'm chewing on dates
spitting out weeks and never deciding on endings.

this one's left

hi love,

i don't have any coherence in my thoughts in the present. i don't really remember the last time i've accessed new words and thoughts worthy of keeping; brain food at a blank i feel a little internally miserable. how surreal it is that we can sink into the antonym of our ideals. how many times have i repeated that i refuse to be an object subject to the sidelines of maintaining a home. the invisible role of women; i rebel it everyday  yet here i am. sweeping thoughts over the door frame, frying my will and slipping over the greasy remains. jokes and one-offs translate strangely into realities we never asked for. a single fortnight before stagnancy is expired. comfort is no quick sand and the solution is no longer to stand still. comes and goes, comes and goes, if i could choose, i'd erase the idea of leaving places, we're just moving toward new ones. does leaving define what staying is? then does staying mean you don't have to miss anyone? at least, for a little while. i've learnt recently missing someone doesn't require their absence, missing is wanting (needing) somebody and knowing you can't keep them all the time. (at least i think that's why i constantly miss you even when i'm right by you.) my soul is so spilled and i've a fortnight to collect the splashes beneath shoes that have walked across me these past seven months. 

sticky, tired, dancing. 

Crumbs.

Like crumbs in between the keys of pressing fingers
We shook like the belly of a man
filled with the sun
of smiles as bright as this child’s joy
Curved in lines on a steeper climb
made it to the top, touched you
and ran shrieking
somersaulting
dis remembering
what
way
glares

down
fell onto flatness
tumbled onto a runway
with floors dropping models 
plunging us
leg before leg, we tired
we shook
and rode his feet
saw the ground tremble
like the hairs we planted
in the garden of our hopes
and left those crumbs to the mouths of others