i. Sometimes, I think that to be
only as much as alive and existing right now
is so much and so good
that to smile about it would break the world in half.
ii. I don't know when it was that it did split in half,
but ever since then it's been before and after.
Before, I was all angry and anarchy
and no cause to come by.
iii. After is always before something better.
After is looking to after-wars, afterwards.
After is an anarchist who is just hopeful
and a little immature.
iv. My sword is made out of tree branches, after all.
v. Memories are like family- when it's bad, it's misleading.
Just when you think you have walked away,
you realise you have left some of yourself behind.
vi. My hands sit like worry stones, waiting to be held.
When I wake up, my mouth holds more apologies
than it does teeth.
