im trying to connect with you

Hard and knarled, I stare at a peach split in half, velvet skin bruised from being knocked around at the bottom of my backpack 

It was overripe, torn, leaking out its furry boundary

papers and phone charger sticky 

An impression, contact made with the world of my possessions as if not wanting to be forgotten

Remember that time? Even after it is gone

There is a pit in my stomach

A seed in an infant given at birth

Containing all the dna and scripture for a whole life

(the tree is already in the seed)

Sometimes it is a core and sometimes it is a well dried up, bottomless

Sometimes redecoration is necessary, the pit gets covered by a cage

and the cage is also empty at first but then I realise it is actually full

Or half full

Or getting there

 

that fun diaspora feeling

I spoke with my dad this morning

Keh se ho

The words are clumsy, my tongue trips over the furniture in my mouth as if it hasn't lived there for 26 years

It gets rearranged, the indents in the carpet scars of what was, perhaps what should have been

The projection of a happy family sitting around the TV, words and language melting together fused solid, steady

instead of bumping my elbow into the corner of the hardwood table as I try to make myself small against the wall, unnoticed, my accent swallowed 

 

 

in the dungeon

Your fingers dig into your skin your chest your neck clasping grasping pressed tight and close and hard like you can't slip or something will escape

One crack and it all falls apart

Bleeding out gushing thick viscous honey

bulging with flies stuck suffocated by their desire

It should be sweet but its bitter 

hardened under pressure

but no value added

 

The crow in the cage bats its wings

strikes against the bars, shoulder bruised from impact but going

again again again

heavy, a bass drum beat

beating the air into a gale force wind because survival is a zero sum game and if anyone else is happy it means you are not

But survival isn't really enough

it isn't satisfying it is draining and brain melting and numb

an absence

does it matter if it is excitement or anxiety

what do you desire

 

 

sorry

I am apologising too much

Empty sorries that fall like rain hitting pavement

Not fat drops plump with meaning in the middle of a humid summer

But spitting sheet rain, there but not there -

doesn't warrant a good jacket but enough to blur my vision through the streaks on my glasses

I was holding something precious but it slips through my fingers and my hands are empty

bereft of something weighty to the point that a part of me is gone too

My breath does not quite reach my lungs 

But you are right it means nothing

stream

The light and shadow dance like ants across the surface, static on the tv after rewinding the vhs tape (an old memory) frantic, fretting, confused against the gentle babble of the stream. It folds around the rocks, a caress, firm, as it continues onwards, unblinking. The tension holds for a second before breaking as my fingers slide in, slimy, wet. I'm crouching on the bank, grass overgrown and soft beneath my feet, giving, a cradle, a holding of my own roots in contrast to the unforgiving hardness pressing back on the road

ibs

 I'm thinking about how worms can grow back when they're cut in half

And how they can be split in two and not be ruined

But continue below the hard cracked surface

To rend the earth itself and turn and mix 

and grind back into it richness, multiplied

 

I am thinking about how my gut is a brain

but it feels like the earth

heavy and wet and full of life forms crawling crawling crawling around 

unidentified churning kneading like bread like taffy like fudge

but the kind that makes you want to throw up

 

It is giving me indigestion

But it is also only the upper six feet

The box inside is much deeper and isn't hard or cracked or rich it is small and it is scared

I am scared

 

The nameless dread of being born

The silence that echoes from everything inside that cannot be let out 

A head cracked open and spilt on the table, cranberry juice dripping a pool on the floor 

midsummer (light)

 

There is a dream that goes in two directions

One is home, familiar, warm

 

The world is a beautiful place

 

In darkness there are no shadows

The edges are soft, they blend like pastel clouds on sugar paper

I want to set it alight, watch flames lick and curl the corners up

Running along seams that threaten to rip and spill out 

My fingers grip the sheets on the bed 

 

The bruises beneath my eyes aren't purple or pretty there is no romance there

The fire in my chest isn't warm

It is sharp and barbed and digs at my insides

Black bleeds out, sticky tar I don't want you to step in

It will ruin your nice shoes

 

A memory lingers

A feeling

A flash of teeth meeting in a smile

Heaviness, muscle under flesh

The impulse is to dive into the water

(I've never enjoyed swimming before)

Dance barefoot with the grass tickling ankles, arms

Buttercups, crocuses, crushed beneath to regrow next season

It is not blood but sweet wine inside me and I want to drink