Eh what?

I was hurt last night

Threw myself into sleep,

Spiteful, empty was a body

Like my organs being taken

And I try to recover, in a bath of ice.

Someone came into bed with me,

Maybe after she heard me weeping

And soon enough we settled back

And our frightened bones were sleeping

RUN AWAY RUN AWAY RUN AWAY

I am throwing eggs into the sky

Looking up

Spitting into the air

Staring holes into Word Documents

Juggle loses momentum

Responsibility vibrating

Pulse gaining speed

Mind working over options

To escape

Find the others

Lose them

Find more

Light a fire

Everything in this room

Burn it at a creek

While I smoke clear air 

Like crack

And crack will go my eggs,

Gleefully I watch them smash

My order is meaningless, your chaos is significant

While Ago

Thought of the day

From which I turn over my body,

Solitude picks patterns, 

Not your April fool anymore.

Wade further out.

More water to doubt

Inky drops,

Stain us,

Proliferate.

I can wait

For you all to

Fall back into your rooms, 

And the Week to start up again.

The lives of bed ridden friends.

On being a woman in India

Never finished, or published this. Nonetheless:

So, generally here in India I am treated with less respect than if I were a man. This tests my patience. All day, every day we are stared at. The most notable reasons for this I suspect are the colour of our skin, our shoes, all clothing and our behaviour. Some examples of the mixed reactions we receive are:

a) The other day we were searching for a hostel to stay at in Pushkar. We got dragged into one, and I found myself leading the four of us up a winding staircase. The manager opened the door to the room, pushed me out of the way, stepped in front of me, Arika and Nara, and said to Isaac, "Sir, what do you think?". I tried to take the brochure he was offering, and he pushed my hand out of the way and gave it to Isaac. He then preceded to whisper to Isaac, "And sir, if you are looking for a good time, we can provide the highest quality products", as he pushed past us, holding out one big bag of weed. It was as if the three of us women weren't even in the room.

b) I jumped down some train station steps two at a time wearing cuffed jeans and a t-shirt. Got to the bottom and had a look around to navigate where I was going. Looked up, saw a man staring at me open mouthed, eyes repeatedly moving up and down from my head to my toes. Looked at him as if to say "Is there something I can help you with?". Man took a step towards me, gathered up all the phlegm in his entire being, and laid it down at my feet.

c) Today I went to the holy lake in Pushkar, where I was straight away pulled away from Nara and Isaac and down to the water. A Brahman man told me to repeat after him as he began blessing me. I repeated the names of all my family members and he asked my husband's name, to which I replied, "no, no husband." The man looked concerned but let it go. At the end, we began to argue about the amount I would be donating. He went into a well rehearsed spiel about how the religious Brahman priests were in need of money and that considering I had a large family who he had blessed, I should give a large donation. At the end of our encounter, he told me he hoped I would return happier, with a husband, and that I should now be focusing on having a boyfriend at the very least. I stood up and walked away after giving him a brief rundown on my thoughts on this. He gave a confused smile and waved pityingly.

(Mumbai)

Doona

Squirming underneath,
Our legs become twisted.
Like the chewing gum in your underarm hair.
The gnawing urge of academia waits,
For silence.
Latch on and bury itself in my skin, a parasite.

Motionless in the dark,
Because I hear voices: a family.
So I bury myself into the carpet, a nobody.

It is that time again,
And I am throwing myself around.
And I am retracting myself in my head only.
And I am burying myself in the feathers that pin me down, keep me warm.