Love in the Time of Technology. 

I’m stuck
Inside the curls
Of the letters
In your texts. 
I’m endlessly interpreting
The tone of your voice. 
I’m thinking on repeat about
Everything you’ve ever said. 
I’m carefully crafting
Each reply
Wondering if I’m sending us 
A death note
Or a love quote. 
I’m glancing at the screen
At least once a minute
For the lights of different colours. 
I’m not insane,
At least,
Not yet. 
I’m just trapped in here,
In the infinite digital loops,
Right between the yes and the no. 

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Celebrations.

Everyone needed a knife that night.

His birthday was just around the corner.
The anniversary was next week.
The neighbour had got a new job.
A promotion was just ensured.

Everyone needed a knife that night.

Hers was hidden between her legs,
Restless,
Thirsty for blood.
When the clock struck twelve,
She cut the cake,
And eyeballs rolled out.

Yours to Choose.

The wait, how it turns so painful that tears refuse to come out. How it drenches and saturates you in cold heavy anger. There’s so much that you want to say. So much that you want to give, but there’s that wait. That long unforgiving phase of time that moves so slow, dragging your skin and bones along, charring them against the friction of the seconds that outweigh the heaviest of irons. Life, is one such continuous string of waiting. For something, someone. An endless dead end with a million angles to turn to, all with an alternate outcome. The choice is always yours. Everyone’s waiting.