The Blooming Of Mother Nature

She noticed me first underneath her nails. I began with a shadowy green; a tint that looked like the tips of her fingers had been deprived of oxygen, and a touch that was roughened in texture. It was there that she noticed my budding stems, germinating and feeding off of the accumulated grime.

At first she thought nothing of me, she thought perhaps it was simply adolescent discoloration, but my shadow soon cast colour as the buds continued to grow. She feared contamination and scrubbed away at the soil underneath her nails in which I was beginning to thrive. But she was never quite clean enough and she was far too fertile, I persisted every time.

She eventually realised it would be futile to stop me, and by now I had wrapped timid taproots around her fingers. They spread out like capillaries, a visible mapping out of my invasion. In addition, they had begun to fuse her fingers together creating a web like effect, making day-to-day life an impossibility to carry out.

She reacted as her kind would, with horror at my invasion. Continue reading The Blooming Of Mother Nature


Everyday became for you in some way, somehow, you became my mirror, my interior. It wasn’t infiltration because I welcomed what you thought. Or what I thought you thought, which is really just what I thought.

Let me be your accurate reflection. Question me, What I want from you is the shock that comes with my third-person point of view. Blind yourself and let me describe your details, sculpt you from the rubble of what you deem your negative angles into my own version of a perfect thing, because when I met you I met myself too.

10 Years

Maybe 10 years is not such a long time. Wrapped up in an iris 10 years is condensed into 10 circles in a cross-section of wood, and 10 years is an increase in a single number.

But 10 years could also mean the difference between home and back and home and back, and home.

And 10 years could mean a couple doesn’t hold hands anymore and doesn’t get lost staying still anymore. 10 years could cure or kill or crickets could not stop screaming in the left ear, and finally I’m wondering what did I do with all that time I had.

Force Fed

Unimpressive reality with a convoluted fate means the first thing thought of is a great sweeping motion. Not sure why.

Because force fed knowledge is a poor excuse for something that has to be acquired, no more mental expansion than it is the prying open of jaws.

Wait shit don’t question anything, opposition and argument don’t demonstrate anything, you have to be informed to disagree with anything, anyway.

Trapped in a battery farm in preparation for the slaughter house that is the adult world.

That’s a bit dramatic. Employ enthusiasm.


He says ‘stay as silent as you can’.

Asks to turn the lights off to ask all his questions without the guilt of watching me cry when having to answer or maybe it is just the deterrence of my face. Ill at ease. Question after question about the green glass, about the overturned boat, about the sudden sleepiness, about the following silence, about the false bravery, about his other one’s tears, about why he would lie.

Asks to turn out the lights, says ‘stay as silent as you can’ then puts a knife to the palm of my hand.