28.09.2023

 I fucking resurrected an abandoned fragment of a poem from the graveyard (a page in my notes app, name inspired by a similar practice by Ria Keely) yesterday, didn't even finish it.

Was too shy to perform it at a poetry night so I read a couple pages off a Emily Dickinson book.

Here it is, "A poem from nothing."

Life is like waves

I can't seem to ignore this thought 

The tram hitting the tracks to the beat,

Each carriage quaking

 each car passing the same crack on the road

The melody of horns and bells to the rhythm of footsteps

Ripples in dirt, the rocks and sand that i shovel

In the concrete that i hit with my pick axe and flatten

The surface, flattened and hammered, gets the approval of my supervisor

"Good enough"

But only i see the bumps on it, i keep working on it for 5 more minutes

I keep replaying the same memories of u 

As if i can choose to control how i want to remember you as

But life sprinkles in who u really were from time to time

And it hurts me differently, and less and less everytime

Every person is the same

And that includes me

And everyones that is different

Repeats themselves

Days, weeks, months, or years later

Then you run into someone brand new

And realise they remind you of someone else 

Youve met before

That you used to know

I grew up too fast 

So ive been unlearning how to be an adult as of late

-B4b1.Sp4rk1