The Duchess of Nowhere

Expat. Poet. Podcast Host. Academic.

[theduchessofnowhere]

Bullet

[theduchessofnowhere]

RE: 2013 recordings

Little voice that piques and prances

I can hear you over these bad speakers,

close.

Nothing more familial or familiar

voice of my roots, ashy

Mechanically cold.

Distant.

Impossible for you to be

here,

for your voice to be anything

besides imitation,

a bittersweet illusion.

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[theduchessofnowhere]

Oubliez le regret

Keep your heart always in good humour

For we all ache the morning after great mistakes

And hindsight laughs that we could not see her sooner

  It’s hard to cope with an unseen future

All the world rests on our worried shoulders

So keep your heart always in good humour

  Morning comes with terror’s rumour

Flooding the mind with last’s nights blunders

And hindsight laughs that we could not see her…

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[theduchessofnowhere]

illegible

[theduchessofnowhere]

Aboveground

The geometrically lit windows,

3

stacked and                                                                       two                      beside

a row of darkness between

from the train,

the streetlights

yellow or red, romantically

remind riders of life outside

outrospection

lives beside the travelling t h o u g h t

offices with investment, meetings, and deadlines

your mind

comprised of…

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[theduchessofnowhere]

[theduchessofnowhere]

[theduchessofnowhere]

More of some words I've written.

[theduchessofnowhere]

I've been writing quite a bit more lately. This is a small thing I wrote.

[theduchessofnowhere]

[theduchessofnowhere]

Magazines I don't want to read, music I hate, and waiting for a doctor who I'm worried won't help me.

[theduchessofnowhere]

Poor Rose! It hurts D:

[theduchessofnowhere]

Rose down on the tattoo bench @rozesque

[theduchessofnowhere]

New book. New poetry. (Not particularly good though).

[theduchessofnowhere]

My neck hurts.

[theduchessofnowhere]

Watching you, watching the world.

[theduchessofnowhere]

Somedays, when life is busy enough, entertaining enough, or stressful enough, I'm distracted from the 5000 miles between us. It's at night, with nothing in front of me but an empty bed and plans for tomorrow that I become wrapped up in my small heartache. I miss him for the dancing and the kissing, the laughing and the cooking, the holding and the knowing.