
The world is so much wider / deeper / broader than we are led to believe. We are encouraged to throw our shackles off and explore Europe at 18 as if it’s some great, nay, grand, adventure, but it is merely a constructed reality - a structured escape preventing us from truly escaping.
We blow off all our steam in cheap bars and dingy hostels, collecting war stories about stolen wallets and all-night trains - but what have we really seen? Ticked boxes in guidebooks, filled SD cards with ‘memories’. The year abroad is no longer stretching the minds of the elastic - rather it’s forming them all the same. We now all fit the one mould. And, the scary thing is? We all think we’ve broken it.

I still think about you from time to time
when the air is still and the music washes in and over me.
There’s a peaceful clarity there, I hope you know.
At 3am, I woke up in such a rage. Scrawling infinities across the page
I am angry. I am angry.
I said all my goodbyes that night. Etched into blue lines, etched into white.
I am angry. I am sad.
I wrote goodbye to your mother. That beautiful mother who rose such a goddamn beautiful son.
I am angry. I am tired.
I fell back into restlessness. I dreamt only of my anger / of her face / of your back.
I am tired. I am tired.
Walking away. Walking away.

He had been forever transient.
Walking silently through crowds of people,
lighting sparks and leaving only
fleeting marks…
A fragmented reflection in the eyes
of those looking on,
seeing only arbitrary angles of the whole.
And as he passed on by
he collected all the mirrored reflections
from those that had gone before,
putting the brightest flames away
for the darkest of times.
Each face in the crowd had left its mark,
and on each face he had been
only a fleeting remark.
I met an old man on the street today. He bowed his head and dipped his hat and said, “Honey, we all have our own prerogatives. Mine’s avoiding my ex-wife until the end of time.”

dear ghost,
you tramped being,
you’ve been running through my head
at times
periodically,
in a frenzy,
in a trance,
crafting caves deep inside.
i’ve packed up all your belongings
all those gifts, sweet,
and not so sweet reminders.
and i’ve painted illustrious figures
over your features,
sweet, and not so sweet,
which have been haunting my walls
for months.
i’m wrapping myself
around this enrapture
tying knots in my hands
to remove
this enchantment.
my ghost, I see you
when you don’t even see yourself.
but now,
sweet spirit,
i’m moving through the netherworlds
and you, dear soul,
must stay behind.