there’s nothing like

an inside joke

to make you feel

like an outsider


and often

if people explain them

it only serves

to isolate me more


to remind me

of pop culture

i wasn’t there for


of shows

i didn’t grow up



of all the pointless things

i missed


of all the tests

i’ll never pass


i’ve come to realise

that my kindness

is like a little flower

and some people

tread on it



and other people

pluck it out

and put it

in their hair

using it

to make them pretty


and it can do nothing

for it is a little flower


my little flower

called kindness




wake me up

reach for me


touch me till i’m pliable


hand around my waist

the weight of it

makes me shy to ask

so i wait

while you hold me



the want in me

like sinew in muscle

(twitching, ready)

like gravity

(bike downhill)

like emphasis

(blackened text)



wrap your arm

around my waist


sort me out