And yesterday still knocks me down.

Thread bare tendons snapping back and forth like a can to can phone line in a tug of war.
I’m trying to get through to you by tip toeing on this unsteady connection.
Put away your shuffling dancing feet so I can talk to you for a moment.
Why must you insist on existing past me;
Rain dancing to the drums of a forgotten chest beat.
Heart beating so fast and full that it nearly shattered my rib cage.
Your dance brought my tears and my tears brought the flood.
Yesterday’s wounds weren’t properly scabbed over though I’m on the mend.
You still look at the words “I love you”, distrustfully, holding them in your hands awkwardly like they would poison you if they broke or as if to ask “What am I to do with this?”.
If I had to write a manual to accompany them, it would read “Love me back”…
Learn to advance your sense of worry, anxiety is only rational because she’ll say goodbye soon.


All in the name of safety and certainty.

“For the night is dark and full of terrors”.

She walks through inner city Johannesburg, arms tightly mantled around her purse, legs briskly kicking herself forward and eyes intently dismissing and avoiding any eye contact. She knows that today could be the day that she gets robbed, raped, murdered or all of the above. She’s never in her life felt safe walking through Joburg alone.

Sporadic glitches
He enters social situations with light tremors and twitches in his muscles. His palms are so hot and sweaty that they could be rented out as saunas for insects. He’s dyssemic around people because he feels like there’s always something socially expected of him and he’s caught between proving himself and uncertainty; a no man’s land – a purgatory for wall weeds. He knows that today could be the day that he is mocked, judged, alienated, criticised and what’s left of his self esteem killed off. He’s never felt safe walking through a discussion alone.

When home is not safe
We’re all looking for some type of safety, a concrete certainty; a financial, biological or social homeostasis… To risk is to go against human nature but how else do we prosper if not by going against the reasonability of our fears. The truth is we risk just to feel safe. We work for shelter, food and financial stability. We love and give just to know that there is a safety deposit box that we can invest our hearts in,even though there is a risk that that the returns will be terrible(unrequited). It’s a fucken scarey world and there are monsters waiting to tear you from limb to limb in every corner but you’re not living if you’re not gambling against a danger. Trapeze art and tightrope tiptoeing wouldn’t be as exciting without the grave possibility of death.

Writing Forever

I’m writing forever into my notebook,

using the letters of eterny;

crunching down on the keys of ever more,

I’m trying to picture it from shut eyes

but all I can see is a red blocked out version of daylight

This is not a smile, it’s a grimace,

I’m trying to hold the tears back

because I’m trying to illustrate forever from the fibre of my broken paint brush

But I can’t tame these hands,

Only if I could tame these hands

They wouldn’t shake every time the clock struck now

Only if I could stop ticking along to the second hand

but on second thought,

doesn’t the whole world revolve around second hand thoughts?

don’t we switch at a pendulum swing?

between the minute made smiles

and the hours you spend isolated underneath the islands of your eyelids

You could picture forever when you were alone but it felt so tedious

You could give its likeness to a police sketch artist

But all you’d eventually come up with is a blank page,

all negative space

because forever paints self portraits

And writes it’s own stories with us as supporting characters

While we’re too busy observing to live

We draw ourselves, drawing ourselves and call it life

Where do you hang yourself when the day strikes over?

All days spent on ruminating on failures and other sobering thoughts,
No more energy to fake normalcy
Just for emptying out the luggage that I carry with me,
But where do I hang it all when the day gives up?

They’ll hold your hunger against you and call it greed
When all they’ve ever fed you was the middle finger
They’ve armed you with an emergency number for when you need help
But they’re the ones who have burned down your farm just to sell you corn
So how low do you hang your head when the day loses form

Hope, you’re an eyesore
and I was so isolated
When I saw us
standing across each other in equal lengths like the sides of an isosceles
and what I wanted took shape in front me
but what fixture do I hang this light bulb from

You’re a half healed memory
Buried beneath a pendulous personality enamoured by it own purpose,
caught between pensive and laughing
Undecided even when you’re completely certain
So the pinky swears and cross my heart promises are useless
No matter how much you mean them when you make them
How can I hang on to your every word when I know they’re just lies (And if I did, I know that I’d be killing myself)

An thou shall have no others Gods before me
but the Gods in your head that you refer to as regrets
Keeping you up and feeding your insecurities like pets
Is that political propaganda disguised as religious literature
Trade your current situation for a little providence
Don’t mind the agnostics, they’re just convicts of common sense
Humpty Dumpty fell over while straddling the fence
So carefully choose which corner you want to hang your hat from

I want you to know this before the sunlight dresses the moon tonight
I know I’m too pretty to frown but weeds don’t need fertile soil to grow
So plant your seeds to feed the crows
Put pressure on the wound till the bleeding slows
While you stumble through my mind like a lame man walking on uneven snow
We’re so vain, trying to draw two parallels between beauty and worth
Trying to find evidence in our own existence by how many people stare
Whether they look down or up, it doesn’t matter cause they’re looking at us
When they see how much we shine, all they can do is hang their lips in disbelief.

Lastly, I didn’t mean to harm her
I’m a mistake farmer planting the future seeds of regret.
There must be a special hell for people like me
Who sever angel wings for fun and parade nephillim naked
But somewhere along the line, those bible pages became thinner than 1 ply toilet paper
I’m half man, half rusting scrap
I’d die but I don’t think that the void would take me back.
It’s funny how a person who was once your inbox, becomes your spam mail
but one man’s junk mail is another ones Russian bride
At least I know where to hang this noose when I get tired.


The Tunnel

It’s called time, the measuring scale standing between I will and I didn’t

And it’s all a matter of time till I convert promises into regrets

like a jet lagged traveller stuck between date lines and time zones;

I cant be sure that I left those moments behind like a hit and run with no witnesses

Is that why I try to forget more than I try to remember,

I can’t remember what I need to but I remember each moment I fall like I need to…

Time becomes a draw bridge slowly opening and thinning it’s planks into a sheet of paper

so thin that it’s transparent but this moment’s text will forever be recorded onto it

and folded to be tucked underneath my pillow as fodder for my nightmares,

even in my daydreams; my recollection is so vivid that I don’t call it remembering;

I call it time travel and I time travel so often there no longer is a now

just past moments that I’ve experienced much too late,

social cues that have reached their expiry dates.

I wish I could time travel back to the moments where the promises were still fresh

Not even now could pull me back from your smile

Where I am now get’s harder to reconcile

But I know there will be a place there for me to spend a while




I can’t tell if you’re balling up snot from your nose or playing the worlds smallest violin for me. (Senile Ramblings from a wise old homeless man pt 8)

And I’m emotionally done; nervous system on collapse, all neurons have fired signals heavily and erratically and now lie exhausted from stress, cognition on the decline, synaptic connectors have unplugged themselves like friends who are now enemies, head hangs low, anxious – so anxious that I shake on the brink of paranoia and insanity, all muscles and limbs twitching like the tail of a dying lab rat, I need to escape or else I think I’ll die here, my soul will patter out like an old light bulb, the grief will kill me, I don’t think I’ll get up if I dont find some leniency, some form of reprieve, I’m so exhausted that I can no longer launch an argument to explain myself, I’m an outsider in what I’ve thought was my home; it’s always been that way, I thought it would get better but it didn’t and I find myself crushed under the solemn pressure of my own past and pain, the recriminations echo out from the dark, I’m my own accuser, I’m hated because I exist, all I want is justice like anyone else who’s been wronged, there is no forgive in me. I feel claustrophobic in my own head. Now I need a rope to use as a means of escape, to climb from or hang myself from.