ajulea

If your head were a 3D object in an animation software I would have sliced it open horizontally just to see if among clouds of technicolour thoughts like chalk dust in the wind, there were crevices with thoughts of me. If you cut mine o…

Your face is a path traced by a mountain waterfall, weathered and smooth with a sharp dip, and I wonder- if I kissed your plunge pool lips, would I swim or sink?…

On some cloudy afternoons, the dusty brown fan on the on the crusted ceiling in my room seems to be the only thing in motion in my life right now. As I watch it spinning in circles, blurry and confused, I appreciate the quiet stillness…

When bullets shower down like assorted chocolates from a blue star-shaped piñata at a little kid’s birthday party, God, whom do you pray to?…

I swallow my pride like pills and I swear it will only be a short trip down memory lane before sleep kicks in. It is easier to overdose I suppose and lose your way when you’re on your own – the four am ceiling is my favourite…

I was away on a hillside vacation, when I received an SMS, an SOS in all caps, from an unknown number. but my phone was in silent mode and I didn’t see it till later. I suppose it was my plant asking for help, but I guess I’ll nev…

on bad days my body is a block of dried terracotta a lump of clay rigid beyond moulding I sit on the black and white tiled floor my vulnerability is proportional to the height from which I fall on good days my body is a rusty machine which…

the skyline yawns pink. orange ice cream clouds drift by. dusk is when all my tales begin. I write poems with bleeding ink the way a mother sends up a prayer for a damaged daughter – desperately. I’m a dogeared leaf out of a yellowe…

This ground glass heart is a few heartbreaks old, and I see the light pour in….

crowded streets sigh, the two-way traffic stands still today and I wonder if the primaries and secondaries of zebra crossings and traffic lights are the only colours that keep you afloat. (or do big cities suffocate you?) our ha…