Meeting you
Was like listening
To my favorite song
For the very first time
And already knowing
All the words

Already knowing
It’d be my favorite.

Wake up
Go to work
Lay in bed alone
Feeling the crushing weight
Of loneliness
And all my past mistakes.

Repeat

Today has a weird air about it,
It’s sunny and bright and still
But it feels like mourning.

Is this preemptive?
Premonition?
Or a soft surrender to all my trauma.
A delicate laying down of flowers,
Soft cloths,
A blanket of tears
For versions of me that never survived
Or who were taken by the darknesses.

At a desk, coffee sachets rest.
Long-life milk harbours
white dreams of expiry.
Shuffling in his forgetful nest
a grey man blinks
at the intruding light.

Americo, do you remember
your antique power,
that opened like a rose
on the walls of Hiroshima?

She was the villain.
She could feel it
In her heart—
Yet there was nothing,
Not a “sorry”
That could salvage
What she had done.
We are all heroes
And villains in
One and another’s
Lives—
but she still wished
she could be
     only the light

Hello

Why does that little wheel spin?
Why does my patience wear thin?

Where are the poems I seek to read?
Where is the solution that we need?

Please repair the sites buffering
Please end our incessant suffering

We want to feel through others words
We want to work towards

Poetry

neon lights
illuminate the night’s
heavy clouds

while rain muffles
the constant urban humming

pierced by distant sirens
moving slowly
through concrete canyons.