Sometimes all I have

is the look on my face,

that instant reaction

splitting the way you see me,

like my answers were standing behind me,

taller than me

and knowing you’d see them,

like dust

in a sealed room,


waiting for a single breeze.



I don’t know

where I am right now,

all I do is sail the air

and keep finding

excuses in my hands

like sign language directions

were my only way to apologize .

This life I’ve lived

was never a part of the plan,

but more apart from

who I wanted to be,

but still

I am someone with a story,

someone open to everything,

yet still connected

to the pieces I leave behind,

tethered to everything

that makes me

who I am.

Got featured in an online arts magazine, thought I’d share.

Got featured in an online arts magazine, thought I’d share.



I’ve asked myself before

and like tips

my answers are always positive.

I never give myself

the hard

sandpaper truth,

just the reflex

that keeps me smiling

and the tone

that convinces me

that I’ve never done anything wrong.



There’s always something going on,

distractions that focus our attentions

like lengthy lines of excuses

perfectly cut with razors

and inhaled into our brains.


The quiet bars here
all blast nineties love songs,
caught in some
testiment to a timeline
where favourite things on repeat
never wear down,
or become lost,
or show signs of regret
when memories
become more realistic
than the moments
we’re living right now.


I put on my best smile
and walk into the room,
my lazy feet
catch the stick of the waxed floor
and my eyes
look for any other eyes
they might have seen before.


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