My first published essay
Was titled Why I Write (About Sex)
A nod to Orwell
Through you wouldn’t be able to tell
That he was my inspiration
I wrote badly
Full of hesitation
I wanted to sell my words so much
And see my name in print
I didn’t stop to think
That this essay would follow me to this day

It was in your bin
It’s hardly a sin
Taking something
You won’t want again
But it pained you
To see
Me
Get something for free
You throw things away
Without a care
I won’t apologise
And it won’t kill you to share

I’m a poop emoji
I don’t know what I’m doing
A study in dialectology
I’m a poop emoji
As melodic as a hoagy
Aggressively chewing
I’m a poop emoji
I don’t know what I’m doing

🌻
Scattered
Absent-mindedly
With a heart of joy
🌻
Sewn
On a Sunday
At Granddad’s house
🌻
Spring
Comes during chaos
Sweetly
🌻
Sunshine
Warms our faces
As we Skype
🌻

Lackadaisical
Improbable poetry
Penned in quarantine

Intimidating
April electricity
Buzzing through windows

Diabolical
Kissing individuals
Visit the neighbours

Appreciating
Thunderclaps overmorrow
Celebrate the rain

Multiplication
Of identifications
Cause unease today

Communication
Is incomprehensible
My voice overwhelms

Abominable
Abomination adopts
Anything I feel

Generosity
With rationalisation
Makes delicious cake

Imagination
Rewriting biography
With happy ending

Globalisation
Altered personality
Into a cover