Feels like

Unintended street poetry, Melbourne

No mask thick enough,
no clothes oversized enough,
no noise loud enough, and
no blanket large enough.

Nothing is numbing enough to cover the sense of inadequacy that stretches from my thoughts through to my words, up to my split-ends and down to the depth of my guts.

Inadequacy is an earthquake shaking from the foundations up, except that the shelter you run from is the shelter you run for.



On repeat

Photo by mahdi beygi on Unsplash

We google
we swipe,
we glorify,
we vilify,
in search of connection,
then deny.

We worship algorithms that can not tell fake from butterflies.

The network,
the fiber,
the 4G,
the 5G,
in search of connection,
the speed of light wont’ suffice.

Lost in a cage,
we augment our stance,
we maximize the distance.

Distance from one another and ourselves,
the lethargy of our senses,
we double down in defenses.

We write, we delete, we filter and deplete.

The boomerang of our stares, we share, we don’t really care.

All race,
in the wrong place,
in search of connection,
no one can trace.



Sort of

Rubbish bin, Barcelona.


Best time of my life.

I mean, best time E V E R.

I swear.


Let’s take a selfie.

Fast-forward 3 minutes, 119 poses, 63 selfies, and 7 filters later, and nothing is good enough to share.

Having the time of my life.