Dear mister,
Wait. Sorry. You mightn't be a mister. Who says every novella protaganist is a male, anyways? So, stuck in perpetual freeze mood, I'm unhappily reporting. Freeze, defrost,refrost, refreeze. It's due to that chilly, hand chapping air out there. Not day atmosphere, either. Nightly black with specks of silver. But only some nights. Did I tell you I was waiting for you? Whatever your haemaproditic name is. Sam. Alex. Yeah, something like that. You'd think I'd know your name but HARDLY. I consulted the clouds this afternoon and they'd seemed to have forgotten too. Not that you'd ever told me so that I could have the opportunity to ever forget. I try to look like I have two invisible, divisible friends right here. Sitting next to me with broad, straight toothed smiles and perked ears and bloody tongues. Sounds morbid now that I mention it. Perhaps. But I'd never heard you slam the door if you slammed it. You did slam it, didn't you? Didn't I just hear you? Or was that my skull clattering against my eardrum? Or was that my little coloured crayons hitting the compacted earth? I've got to keep on telling myself to close up my case that holds these things. Zipper it up. Right up. Wouldn't want to lose anything. Sometimes I think about what's slipped out when I wasn't looking or when I was thinking about something else. It feels lighter now, I swear. Thought there was a pair of scissors there that I bought at the start of the academic year. Peach cheeks. You ain't too close to comb. Hopefully, I haven't cut into your sweet hours. You haven't got long now. Tell Susie I have her knitted knot socks and they're washed. Keep your eyes up. You never know when a paper plane will hit you in the peck of your patella.

Love always (but never in flawed ways)

-K.

nitid nights.

Sat in the street
just after ten past three
City, city, come sober
or you'll stumble over skyscrapers.
Fortunately, powerlines will hold your hands up.
They know you can't anymore.
Just surrender.
Eariler that night, someone had said:
'Surely, you're Lady Luck!'
Five Bombay cities on ice
like her feet later on
made out of liquorice straps
bending and twisting
bone not breaking.
Her brain had been leaking all night,
now the snakes could just smell her.
Wrapped around vials of
green and grim,

all gold drained from her.
An imbroglio of works
in inky mess.
Henceforth, days after:
people thought of less.
Shame really,
ain't got nothing but
clear.

golden ami.

I met this lady once,
she wore everything mismatching
a haircut like a mushroom cap
and twinkling brown eyes like
she knew hundreds of glittering, horrible
secrets.
Swear she had a heart that gleamed
gold under all that sticky red mess.
She'd never settle for others being
less.
and when asked about her
sweet teeth, she'd deny.

Never met someone like it
always standing whilst letting the other sit.

One time to prove yourself
and if you fail to do so,
those wolves will sneer at you like your their next game, next dinner.
I'm sure you'd never realise
if you were the dewdrop on top.
'To think about others? hah, please. Stop!'
Everyone thinking you're the prize
until one lip parted the other,
a verebal ball of string poured out
and all it'd smother,
rolling itself out , tangling everything in its path.
Like a fluorescent rainbow slinky
clasping its spiral bound bands
and never letting go.
'Oh, I REFUSE, sire!'
I'll have none of it
only if they don't put that
list of adjectives in front of HER.

finally woken.

today is the first day of the rest of your life.
and everything will be alright.