Saw it coming; my cab slipping under the back of the van.
Flew forward; shouting because it seemed right.
Felt stupid; knowing there was nothing to shout about.
Logorrhea; tweeting when all I wanted was to call a friend.
Scared. Alone.
Poetry is a sport. Where everybody loses.
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The police confiscated them, saying people might steal them
Life is a post-hoc narrative. The last time we really spoke, I had just arrived in Sydney. And so we turned the page to the chapter of my life…
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Sin is a branch of geography
Big changes are afoot. I've moved to Singapore— seemingly for the next year. Taking advantage of the locale, I've visiting the nearby…
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It's the channel with the least amount of lies
Just shy of two years in Australia. The Indian consulate reminded me of this, most inconveniently. One-year business visas require an interview if…
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