“Hope” is the thing that weathers—

17th September, 2016 Today is my 22nd birthday. As the clock strikes twelve, I blow the imaginary candles on a chocolate cake which I bought from the supermarket this evening. …

les années passent, mais le bonheur ne passe pas pour mon ami sage. j’espère, avec l’âge, sa vie mûrit — une framboise, moins acide que douce.

when does the milk go sour, on what date, at which hour? what has the causal power, to ruin desire to devour? from sweet and creamy odour rises a taste so dour — separation into towers of precipitation showers. noiseless, like a wallflower, its spoil beyond willpower, don’t save it with some flour to make a roux that glowers. let it be, another hour, waiting hopeful, you cower entropy is in rush hour.

I have lived in London for over six months now, but only recently discovered that I stayed close to the Grand Union Canal. Part of the great British canal system, it stretches all the way from central London to the midland city of Birmingham. So on a beautiful sunny April…

My eyes are not lazy, they’re just tired. Of flinching and flickering, fighting desire. They tighten, look fast, go haywire, At a resting point lost in space of crosswires. They’re restless, not resting, don’t mistake the liar For a statute of honesty, they’re a statue for hire. Sending code, staccatos of Morse, they misfire, Receiving dead silence of walls growing higher. And so now they stare, beware, but admire,

I guess I am sick. Realize when I lick, The salt that has rolled down my cheeks. I feel like a wick. That’s lit on a stick, Of wax that burns down where it reeks. I believe I’m thick. Get into a tick, Of thinking the same thing for weeks. I wish I could pick. How time foots a kick, Of brakes to the end of a leak. I’ve learnt it too quick. All of the old trick, Of making me seem what one seeks. And so now I am,

“Love thy neighbor as thyself,” But I truly loath myself. That makes me a rotten thief, Robbing others of their grief. Throbbing with the pain of need, Trotting till eternity. “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” But I just encroached my cell. Dreaming of a leafless tree, Sleeping with the enemy. You see, the place next to me, Lies cold, dead, fully empty. In the night when shivers come, My breath is a corpse’s hum.