they call you
Strange, little boy.
Unwrapping the tinfoil, Oops, the intonation of a sentence / is overcooked; the content of a sentence is / meaningless.
I don’t mind if it is an acorn, a plum, or a baobab fruit. / They are all fruits.
Allow that which does not belong / in your heart to find / its way out.
You, this forgotten shadow, / That rests in a flowering memory / Is the kiss of root and berry.
Your fungus / begins to / age inside / its new / porcelain cage.
when someone asks / what I want to be when I grow up / I respond / a dog.
She was a woman who made the best of her circumstances and ensured no one else should ever face the same tribulations her fourteen-year-old self did.
i would ask you things / and you would only look / upon me / and spit on me softly
the salty sea breeze blows / McDonalds™ wrappers swirl / infants scramble / some nestle in the bin liner / others look for scraps