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i wish i knew how to feel warmth upon my shoulders- when my mind swears i'm dying a slow death. 

untitled (10)11/03/17

Do you like yourself? Excuse me? Do you like yourself? ; the question echoed accusatorily.   She could feel herself recoil at the question even as she dared herself to calm- to breathe - to breathe.   The breath she drew stuck pins in her chest through her back and she knew she was falling …

last hours in bangkok.

i've collected a collage of tan-lines. i've collected the sun. i've made moments with old, made new friends and missed some. i've eaten so much tom yum. i bought books today- instead of doing touristy things. i've had interesting conversations about life; future; and everything in between.  i've arted and felt both content and empty …

the city *

listening to the hum the steady, streaming, breathing of the  city. people with eyes that watch both the surface and the unspoken  parts like learning  the rules to a game for the first time. hands, laughs, eyes- that  firmly take and keep a certain sense of focus. the city and  its coming and going people  …

luminary

that perhaps, you're the light in a barren wasteland. but not my lands because mine hrive and up andunder and over with the green of the work-                    the toilage and the drips of sweat that has salted the earth to raise that green.       …

when things happened

Compassion:  Baby, baby you in there? I push open the door, the music blasting penetrating the walls of the apartment… I enter the room and there you are with your back to me, her leg in your hand. I want to say you’re kissing which indeed you are but I can imagine how her lips …

​a life | 28/09/16 – 23:12

a sight, the day you spooned and placed all this life within me, and fed me the spirit to never falter  though i lay crooked at this table. a spirit and a promise to keep it going and know there's soul where the warmth, the food of your faith lands as it hits my soul. …

fragility

the stretch of the soul       when it breaks and  hangs, dregs in the branches. hoping and looping several    times through the split tendrils of itself.  frayed; stretching in a hope. the stretch.     the unspoken stretch. 

purpose

17.08.16 19:31PM

untitled

on how strange things can remind me of things. like packing materials for today's lessons and being hit by that new toy plastic smell. on how that smell is linked to my Tshepang. on how the toy that etched that memory in me, was the last toy she received before her passing. on how her …