A doubletree
that snaps
Into 5
skin cities
frozen vintage
Mochaland
A canvas filled with shapes,
and many obscure faces, open-mouthed,
Miniature carvings from men and women,
Stacks of worn-out sighs and swollen hearts,
The leg of Egypt lifting elegance,
on its stretched out deserts and smiling pools of golden blue,
I've been sitting on the top of the stairs in my building for approximately three and a half hours. Sometimes I feel like it's the only place in the whole of the universe where I can reflect on things. Reflect, not think. Because I can think almost anywhere, whether it be about the colour of the stain on my new shirt, or the controversial theories regarding evolution, I know how to think.
Read MoreThe foundation of a tear
And the hoarse leaves
Whispering to themselves
Private as a long-forgotten echo
Read MoreAnd I don’t mean a dimness where you press your nose to the page and squint a little. I mean pitch black. It’s funny how when you switch on the light you have to blink a few times and wait for the spots of colour to fade.
Read MoreAs my eyes settled on the mummies, I felt as if I were invading their privacy. Did they really want to be stared at by hungry eyes centuries after their death? They all had their human lives, couldn't they be left at peace now that they were no longer breathing?
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