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By Navni Patni four years.  four years of confinement in these stupid words,  in these stupid scripts,  in these stupid pages of paper. depicting characters who aren’t truly me. who aren’t what I believe in. who aren’t anything or anyone I aspire to be. who leave me dangling amidst spacings in lines. who leave me crawling as I bare my mouth open, to scream, to cry, to smile. yet I sustain, raging through my hands, crying through my eyes, smiling through my teeth,  and dying t

By Navni Patni the colour is gone. the world is black and white. mostly grey, and none other in sight. there’s no bone, only pieces. there’s no flesh, only creases, as eyes tickle tears, as cuts prickle fears, as brows crinkle near. it’s all there, it’s all fine, all at once, lost, but still divine. but there’s a sorrow, in the clouds. they’re always white, but now, for once, brown. still, the dust will settle, the eyes will clear. but till then, it’s all still fine. all at o

By Navni Patni i pick up a pen, ruffle the pages, i think, and think, and think, but never do, never show, never hold anything tangible. i am what i feel, and what i feel is what i know, but if i cant feel, i dont know. yet i still clasp the pen, i still touch the pages, i still feel for words, and they still don’t show, but just enough hope that someday, they’d be held, someday, id hold. By Navni Patni

By Navni Patni Each ethereal day, at the rise of dawn,  when the eternity of darkness has fazed. The gleams of dahlias and honeybees galore, near the shimmer and splinters of glowing water ablaze.  Cherish the vast dale of evergreen forests, before the twilight, conceals it in its gaze. And swallows the world to rise dreary landscapes, in a labyrinth of the marvels of nature’s maze. By Navni Patni

By Navni Patni look away, look away my love. you’ve been looking way too long. the sight isn’t worth your pretty eyes. that isn’t blood, it’s paint, those aren’t knives, they’re brushes, this isn’t a gash, it’s a love bite. your eyes deceive you. my words speak louder truth than the ones you’ve seen. listen louder, listen louder my dear you’ve been grieving way too long the thought isn’t worth your gleaming energy that isn’t a coffin, it’s a paintbox those aren’t cries, they’

By Navni Patni oh how I saw visions of triumph, visions of pain, through my eyes. I’m reliving a loop, over and over and over- thinking, anything and everything, hoping tomorrow would be better, and maybe it will, but it probably won’t. the anticipation clashes with reality, thinking the “one day I will” but I don’t. I never could. I never would. I never stood, long enough to feel my knees crumble. I never put, enough of me out there to fumble. I never looked, for another way

By Binta Yade this beauty spot on my right cheek was my mother's father's my almond eyes belonged to my father's mother there’s a history carved into my cheekbones telling of an empire run along a senegalese river that kissed the atlantic, every time a tortured soul chose her to be its final caregiver an empire built by the faith of one and undone by the hand of some frenchman with a gun and my nose is slanted just like the mountains of a town hidden in the sole of a boot a t

By Binta Yade (prelude) tons of bricks weigh heavy when you hit the ground but after a while feel as light as the air we breathe through clenched teeth ~ sour at first sweet if given the chance the city where ‘kill em with kindness’ isn’t an empty threat smiles attract suspicion optimism - passive aggression labels of delusion you see it deepen in people’s eyes when the days start to hide in the night who gave you the right to hold conviction? LUNDUN NEEDS LOVE TOO  under her

By Binta Yade death will not reach me  before peace does  because I have found it  nestled in the space where the waves meet  rock  where the water bubbles and glides and rock remains firm  I have found it in people who act as rock and allow me to be water  I have found it flying over mountains that have never heard my name  and on cliff tops facing a horizon that doesn’t know of its fame  death will not find me before peace does  because I have found it  in children’s laught

By Binta Yade I’m reading a new book it’s never ending  the start is always the same but I like going back to it  the middle is where I get stuck  as the end is always running away  an infinitely stretched out middle  with a small bellybutton for the month we didn’t speak  this book is the closest thing I have to a mirror  a reflection not of who I think I am  but who I truly am with you  this book is drawn out and cringey it’s soul crushing and heart warming  it’s beautiful

By Binta Yade in my dreams we meet again  at a coffee kiosk on the corner of an evergreen street or at a gathering for something we both care about  or alone, at our secret spot a secret we guarded with hope and barbed wire  in my dreams we see each other tenderly  and everything melts away  our surroundings  the resentment  the fantasy  there is room but for love in this home  in my dreams we know what to do this time  we know how to get it right  or at least not so wrong  i

By Binta Yade run me my pound of flesh I got you your money  and you still ain’t give it back yet  talking about “I still owe you” on some colonial debt I said run me my pound of flesh  ‘fore I burn your safe havens down to the ground unwind everything you built off my back and turn the copper scraps for a pound  my bones are your empire  my blood - your rivers  my flesh - your food, your sustenance but it’s never enough  you always come back for more I am a spirit and a shel

By Binta Yade take me for what I am  and for all that I can enjoy  because I have been cradled in the palms of the best of man  I have been nurtured by the ripest soil bred of delusion and toil  I have been birthed and reborn and born again  I am what I am for I have been everything I’ve been  so take me as I am  and for all that I am not  my cradle is now my carapace  and I stand upright  speak to me on even grounds and when I stand no longer  lay me to rest, under a birch, 

By Binta Yade i left my rose-tinted glasses in the uber on the way to the airport my luggage was too full to fit my great expectations and my carry-on too heavy for my romanticisations still when my head left the clouds and my feet hit the ground i felt   love that love at third sight slow burning slowly learning love there’s really no way to explain the feeling of feeling at home in a home you've never known it’s something genetic like a map back to this place was etched int

By Erin Brady By Erin Brady

By Erin Brady By Erin Brady

By Erin Brady By Erin Brady

By Ghosty Chan I’d like to think they settled on the title for this particular fruit for a specific reason.  With its spiky exterior and creamy insides,  those against it speak of nothing but the smell,  while those who love it rave about the taste.  Surely the title of “King” could’ve been assigned to any other fruit,  ones that are more popular with the masses,  maybe without that strong, society-dividing odour,  that blends better when mixed with other foods like sticky ri

By Ghosty Chan In the midst of a bustling, busy, market stood a bubble tea shop,  the neon sign above it half lit, half fused.  How long has it been since I patronised this store, I wonder. How long has it been since I discovered the other,  cheaper, trendier one  that was so much more accessible on my way home from school? A familiar storefront. A menu banner that had pretty obviously withstood the test of time.  Maybe I should get something different this time.  I opened my

By Ghosty Chan As I slowly breathe my last on the page,  and the darkness in me dwindles into oblivion,  I can only dream of a cremation.  Not for a haven of songs and paper-white wings,  not an escape from the black, red and burning;  nothing but a silent prayer of a second life as rumoured  From the lips of the owner of the hand that held me;  from the sheet that I had drained myself to help create.  Replaced, drained, discarded.  Replaced, drained, discarded. How many of u