seasonal porcelain

always polystyrene

form -
do it on your own.

momentary,
he'd seen a lot

it's been a boring few beads.

victims of melancholy

alowha, kinda.
maybe next time there shall be
sunshine enough for crayfish and moonshine.

dance apart

promise me ten forevers

linear hopes
laughed out

fell in lust with a punk

he was a gentle spirit

                     she was twenty something

                  they rode a small boat to nowhere

                    he snuck a photo of her

she draped herself in a garland of jasmine

he had a girlfriend

she bought her a scarf

they never touched

he always stared

she looked away

he smelt of clean laundry

she wore the scent of a spring apple

they walked through a temple

he swapped tales with a fisherman

she caught a glimpse of his soul

he wore black boots

she bought him tequila

they said goodbye

she wrote him a letter

he never wrote back

he sent her pixelated kisses

he was never hers to keep.

out take from the
writing of new
fashion histories

days like today,
i love what i do for a living.

--

and out slides the golden baby
with nice dark hair

-plath heart by braids

now i'm here 

listening to glass deers

looking for answers through
numerology, technology and astrology.
mama said to find it in the holy books.
now i don't know if i'm inside or out.
now i go through seasonal bouts of belief.

teppenyaki's fun in your fifties

tea and love songs
on quiet grey afternoons.

it's been a while since
i worshipped at the alter of holy polaroids.

lone runner came on, it was playing
and i could hear it,
but most of all it brought
with it the smell of berlin.

a throwback

 

everybody in fancy clothes,
zine-like appropriation of my heritage,

the others drowning in black ink.

vaguely discontented,
i might as well be.

sometimes i close my eyes and
remember the sun slowing down.
an african summer heatwave, it was february.
slick and sticky.
we were 20 something.
we had genuine desire.

run with kings
ride with queens

silent structures

The milk of wild beasts and rose gold.

playtime.
persian spring.

i sat down for six hours and
managed to spell joy upside down.

i love everything about this.

i felt the spirits smile down on me

i felt my travels getting the better of my belongings

i felt my friend's heart break in two

i felt. i felt. i felt.

i heard eventually.

i heard a guilty pleasure take over my soundscape.
 

(projected photograph by Mimi Cherono)

painting.

i want to.

whatever happened to rock and roll

we're too obsessed
with the self obsessed.

internet creations

twitter appropriation.

 

symmetry and partnerships

ready to start,
it's never just heart & bones.