Sometimes I run out; out of words, situations and my mind. It creeps you know? This hunger. You could be talking and suddenly like a bullet shot, I don’t see or hear the words any more, I’m numbed. I watch your lips and how they curve into the letter shapes and how the fluidly they move – up and down then around. Then I watch your tongue, see how it swirls around, looking for something. Then the hunger – desire – whatever name this beast likes to be called, has me wanting to divulge in your existence. Like my hands lifting mid-air, mid conversation and you wonder why and I’m dying inside hoping you can see it in my eyes. I want you and I can’t control how I feel and what I want. Then my mind runs out and I am stuck on auto pilot, replaying your moving lips – torturing myself. Hands in the air, reaching out for you.

– K




I hate that superior complex that you have. Those moments that you seem to try and dominate every aspect of my life. I hate that you don’t want to acknowledge my presence and worth when I need you to. Like I’m some object for your pleasing. You like it when I doll myself up and sit next to you while you talk your business friends, sometimes – most of the time – you parade me around in front of them like an object they can’t obtain.  While I’m not an object,  objects don’t have feelings and well mine are hurt.