Seaweed drapes down my back, cloaks
my shoulders like a thick leather cape.
Snip, snip. A piece for you. You don’t
like the way it salts your tongue
or slithers down your throat.
Maybe sesame dressing
or a cold mound of sushi
will make it more appetizing.
(nope)
That’s okay. I have plenty more.
But I reach down my spine to find
a hollowed out hole, straight through
my body, no longer masked
by my nights spent underwater.
I’m at the surface now and it’s clear
that I’ve been drowning all along.

They say that sometimes
The people who build you up
Are the ones to tear you down,
And the saddest part is,
No one realises it until
It's too late.

If I could go back
I would

Porch sitting,
a cigarette lit between my index and middle,
as usual.
Safari sitting beside me,
unable to comprehend the world around fully,
startled by the noises that night carries on.

"Leave where you're at."
"No."
I commend the brave souls, who face this earth.
As for souls similar,
the screened in area at the back of the house, is home.

The moon's radiance shedding on the sky,
the crickets howling,
Safari, still scared.
Another night, with another cigarette.
The white wicker chair is still, home.

"Carry on, walk away."
"Never."
The heart lies in the grass,
five shades darker than five hours ago.
The soul carries this landscape.
The white concrete floor, home.

walking on the city streets
wet pavements are seen
a rush of air on your face
with a sense of curiosity
going in through buildings
while darkness surrounds them
following the road to the dead end
thinking if this is the end
but then
you know it's not
you knew better
going back where you came from
was the answer
and you knew it too well
you swim with your thoughts
but you understand what's right
same goes with life
when you think it's the end
all you have to do
is follow another path
you never know
until you go for it
it might be something
wonderful for you