Archive for the Odd Category
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No Filter

self-repress,
the good girl stays in check
and chooses not to hit send
on the like, the umpteenth video –
the kind you’ll never get.
because the strings are carrying a note:
telling her to just chill,
some things are worth the wait –
and so, she will.

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Trust Me, I’m a Doctor

The hand quivers, the fingers numb –
clenched to the steering wheel
the colour of concentration,
his thumb taps ever-so-timely
now a long-forgotten song.
a talent so lovingly pruned
here, now, it seeks the muse
and to be the muse
of the man with the fingers;
dripping with paint
and oh those baby-blues
with light refracting heart-snare
step into the vortices
and take me,
take me there.

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Skinny Bitch

Bones clack and protrude:
a sure-sign that she clearly
doesn’t give a fuck
but oh, how clothes hang
so well on her
Sickening that anyone
could think such-a-thing
or envy the bone-clack
walks and talks
and mistreats
only in her twenties-
it’ll be a short road, for sure.

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