Monday, 16 November 2015


An act so natural
For the little white furry being
It could be mistaken for a yawn
A nap, the sound of purring
A violation so brutal
Forging innocence in the guise
Of her non-humanness
A shameless creature
Not seeking forgiveness
She doesn't ask for approval
Social sanction,a private room
To stick her tongue down
To the love button
Licking not
Just once or twice
Neither here or there
Her legs stretched wide open
One pointing to the dentist's office
One to the exit door
And her tongue
Never stops moving.

An act so natural
It could be casually scribbled across
Her time table
An act barred from
Even the realm of my mind.

Wednesday, 11 November 2015


there is a shadow of a woman that I see sometimes
walking in me step by step, all the way, everywhere
she is the one who needs company 24/7, she doesn’t speak
she likes to listen, she hides when they throw light on her
she has the power to become invisible, she loves her home
beneath the ground, she likes how she is so neat and defined in her
shape, like warm walls to keep safe, and on the right day
you can see the whole world moving outside of her
she, like a figure that stands the same way every day
staring at the same space, in a canvas mistaken for a cage.

there is a reflection of a woman that I see sometimes
staring back when I try to look at my face, she just blows
me a flying kiss every morning and tells me I look pretty,
she changes all the time, but she never lies; she is 25 one
day with a cat in her arms and a bookshelf right behind,
the next day she’s a grandmother with red hair and lots
of tattoos; she challenges me from behind the glass
to bring her to life, but she has no shape, just a liquid soul
that keeps filling into new dreams everyday.

there is a window to a woman I feel everyday
she is short but walks tall, her hair covers her like
a mushroom cap on rainy days, she has holes in her skin
and needles on her legs, and a flame in her eyes, she holds
a sketchpad in her hand and captures everything that makes
her smile, only she edits out the unnecessary props, she cries
like a baby, and laughs like one too; some days she has a hard
time, her body hurts, she is starting to grow out of her being
she’s changing her shape, she’s sprouting her wings.