an addiction;

Re-roll –

one refresh, it won’t

cost. Has it really?

Been twelve hours?

Wasted.

In front of a screen.

Just one refresh more-

Just one I swore

Wake up – next morning:

Un-refreshed.


tiny poem I wrote when refreshing games of Battlegrounds last night instead of going to sleep x

Inertia;

I wrote this to get out my frustration after receiving my fifth publishing profession job rejection, none of which I was even successful in procuring an interview for.


I keep telling myself
that there’s no rush,
there’s still time –
that good things come
(and they will come)
to those who wait.

And wait.

And keep on waiting,
when their cheeks
are stained with salt
and buffed by paper towels.


I’m low-key terrified of the future. I’m terrified that I’m standing still, caught in an immovable current, whilst friends and peers move in new directions and face new challenges, experience new things.