The giant
Years and years of hunger, fear, desperation, anxiety and duress combusted into a quiet moment of cognisance.
I found my old self in the drafts folder
I opened the drafts folder tonight. Not by accident — by ritual. An ever-growing black hole of a mausoleum I dust off once a year.
The desk is a swamp
Yesterday, I found an old to-do list stuck under the keyboard. It says “review prototypes” and “call mom” — a fossil from a more optimistic version of me. I didn’t do either. I fed the swamp instead.