0
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.

0
Fs in the Chat

It’s all a bit unsteady-eddie
the machine is in disrepair
a cooling tick
and metal shavings
they say this is the smell of space
the scent of the black expanse
where unstable orbits
inevitably collide
for the light show
sky-shattering
Fs in the chat, boys
Fs in the chat.

0
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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