” “
Butterflies on social politics.
And I am still drifting.

Unnecessarily
Unspeakably exhausted
Overly excited
Astounded by inner oppressions
Non-normative behavioural patterns
Deducted seeing
Uncontrollably oppressed

Minutes
I hate minutes,
they are to easy to count.
Freezing my movement, my breath.
While the sea paces up and down.
One minute passed,
This feels dishonest.
Time, why are you dishonest to me
I rather not wait,
your annotation does not make you, a better friend.

Dear Miss Evergreen
Dear Miss Evergreen
Today the sun bites
Recovered from a winter sleep
It lurks behind the clouds
Ready to burst and burn my face
It’s may, it might still snow..
Snow in a summer feeling
While enjoying a Pinot

The Oddesy wall
I won’t be gone
When given a ticket to the Oddesy wall
Where deep seas perish in black
As a rupture in time
Partly then, but less devine

I Admit
Preaching to my choir
On its promising lies
We all want to travel within those dark gallons
Everyone, but I

Fecund
Men with hopeless smiles,
who will you worship?
A bone, taken from your chest?
Figures, precise and complete.
A midnight treat, no instinctive sympathy.

Only with a name,
She can give herself away.
Guilt-free.

 

Birdwatcher
I saw a bird smoking,
Where it wasn’t allowed
I wanted to photograph her,

But before I knew she flew away
At least I can swipe her off my list,

As all bird watchers do.

Dear Miss. Evergreen
The sun is shining, I am sitting outside.
5 degrees, I am fighting not to freeze
still, the sun is roaring
As I enjoy a gender sound
Not that of the city around me
A city I rather not found.
No, it is bird trying to drown the cities soundscape.
Covering it in its melody,
Death to humanity!
Despite his loud rudeness, his presence stayed well hidden.
The little bastard,
I did not bow in which direction to bow.
I forgot I could have clapped.
Instead, I whispered thank you for trying

Busride
I once wished upon a wishing well
With one pound in my hand and 50 pence in the water,
Wondering if a higher funding would make larger ripples
I am among many dreamers, in an era that calls itself post
I kept the one pound in my pocket,
But it couldn’t buy me a bus ride home

Think about it
If I was a fish,
I would never be depressed.
I would swim in waters polluted by large cities.
It would always be,
A party in my head.
Instead of something rather sad.