>Paddy
No one knows
The ache of your loneliness

>Liz
I am sorry
For my
ingratitude to your brilliance

>Ruby
Beware; there is a needle in our generosity

>Trick
Is this journal a bloody-chamber?

I die with
the excess of this breeze alone

And there is an infinitude of deaths
To die
Singularly

Banal ( Read more... )

mugwort stole my sleep ( Read more... )

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I visited no. 7 St Anthony’s Road on my recent trip to Cape Town. Correction, the house visited me, for I had no reason to visit exactly. A death took me there. My mom’s best fiend, a beautiful spirited woman called Annamarie, finally died at Christmas after an agonizing battle with cancer and the funeral was across the road from no 7, in the ( Read more... )

My 'puissance' levels are low (powers to affect and be affected by others). More accurately perhaps, I am more open to experiencing the effects of others actions than I am able to affect the actions of others. Skewed puissance. A terrible condition and possibly quite delusional, some of the contingent effects of my actions are inevitably spiralling ( Read more... )

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stoned
yoga
chet
sweat
wet
sultry
summer
storm

.

remembering the weekend of dancing like recalling a dream where the recollection seems to move backwards and forwards at the same time; the breezy silence within the dance gently fades between a cellophane christmas tree rustling in the council aircon.