Short hands
cyclical
in hollow
days
inhabited
by bounds
of nothingness
crashing
onto minds
unprepared for its
artificial landmines
Leaving
parallel
openings
asking
If
Living in the absence
of achievement
Is
Living at all
Asking
if
merely existing
is enough
Asking
if
nothing feeling like
everything
is meant to feel
like everything
Feeling
so short handed
and cyclical
in hollow
days
inhabited
by bounds
of nothingness
© Hudson Biko
Photograph: Martin Reisch
Maybe we tell
ourselves we’re
letting go
So the fibres
on the ropes
burn a little less
And maybe sometimes
they do
But the scars stay
Always.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Stijn Swinnen
New piece out on secretfirstdraft!
Feel free to check out some great pieces on there as well! 😊
We watched
From viewpoints
That protected us
From the repercussions
of the discussions
we never had
Thinking that the bloodshed
would never shed
onto us
If we weren’t close enough
to feel it
If we weren’t close enough
to feel close enough
But we were
We felt all of it
Pouring down
in shades
of blue
and transparency
Reflecting everything
that we weren’t
Because those viewpoints never protected us
They showed us everything.
Imperfections refined
from sections
of misconceptions
Into
realms
resonating
in the absence
of insecurities
As reflections
become easier
to look back at
in the presence
of everything we weren’t
Until
the
runs
out
And we are.
© Hudson Biko
Photograph by Brunel Johnson
Slight throwback today! 🙂
hudson biko 