Poem: Becoming Sky

The angry, tormented, beautiful sky asks you why...
"Why do you believe in pain, when I give you light again and again? 
Why do you question hope, when I show rainbows after weeping. 
Why is your knowing so hard, when I position stars like an art. 
Why should I know black and blue, when at different perspectives I show hues.
Why do you shut your eyes, instead of plant my sunset in your mind.
Why not become one with I, be emerald wings touching freedom to fly."

Preschool Poem

Poems are found between jagged, soul-bearing rocks

and rusty scissor spliced memories from preschool.

Poems come because you can't use those old fables

to create a statue of how you should see yourself.

So you re-create a memory insisting it sticks

a more pleasing picture onto your palms for future reference.

Snowstorms, Delayed Flights and T-shirts

Currently I am delayed. I am in Brooklyn, stuck in a snow storm. My flight out of the USA has been delayed for two days. It is not the end of the world. It is also not the end of my trip, it seems.

I am doing a bit of reflection today with the New Year coming in and everything, thinking about life. How things can happen that are out of your control that disappoint you that lead to circumstances that amaze you. For example, this Nottingham Roosevelt Travelling Scholarship, if I was a woman who had not experience domestic violence then I would not be on this scholarship researching domestic violence and the role of creativity. 

It makes you think maybe you should be grateful for the tough things that happen in your life because it is quite possible, it is shaping your character for tomorrow. If you become an eternal student, the lessons come along and that may just include bad weather for a season. 

From the women, I have spoken to who have experienced domestic violence and didn't returned to their partner, I found there was some form of finding your voice that occurred after being silenced for a long time. 

The arts were crucial in this process as it allowed the women to get to the core of what she was feeling and then express their pent up frustration, anger and disappointments that so often come with a partner being emotionally or physically violent. It was more than the process of releasing through tears or talking, but the process of creation that was most empowering to these women. 

Instead of tearing down an old house with nothing in place of it, these women were able to build a brand new house that they no longer had to escape, but to find safety in at last. They found themselves.

The arts, which involved forms of communication like poetry, song-writing, drawing, painting and film really had a two benefits; first to empower the woman that created the art for her to know she did not go through this traumatic event in vain, and then to communicate to other women the realities of domestic violence to empower them also.

In America, there were many events that were held especially during the month of October in every state under National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. One of the most powerful set of events that I attended was the Clothesline Project which is a national attempt to unite women who have experienced domestic violence through T-shirts. The idea is for women to use their creativity to design a coloured T-shirt, a different colour for a different category of abuse as a "provocative, in-your-face, educational and healing tool" http://www.clotheslineproject.org/history.htm

I cried after seeing some of the T-shirts. 

I spoke to a domestic violence survivor who said that whilst she was with her partner she had to pass her outfit choice by him first before she went out, or he would not go outside with her. He would buy all of her clothes for her as a control tactic and then say she was very unstylish. She lacked confidence at the time and believed him. 

She described a process of healing that came to her by customising a top that she owned, once she had left. She said she knew he would be very mad if he knew what she was doing, and how empowering it was to know that he could no longer make everyday personal decisions for her, like how she looked. Now, she says she believes in herself more and more and continues to customise her clothes to create her own style as creative empowerment within her life. 

It can be the simplest things that means the most to these women once they decide to leave for good. If you can imagine their whole life is changing drastically and every step is a affirmative that they are now on the right path. Miss a step and they are likely to go back. For example, miss the important step of empowerment in domestic violence survivors and how can she believe she can live without him. 

“In youth, it was a way I had,

To do my best to please.

And change, with every passing lad

To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know

And do the things I do,

And if you do not like me so,

To hell, my love, with you.” 

― Dorothy Parker, The Complete Poems of Dorothy Parker

This project had a powerful effect on women, by helping them find their voice creatively the same way this scholarship has had a powerful effect upon me to create value from my experiences also. 

Sacha Wise and Ingrid Mclaren Collaboration Say Sum Thin 5 At Nottingham Playhouse

Interview with Pitman Browne

New 'Science of Digestion' Poem

Stand Your Ground Law - The Jail Free Card If You Are Not Black

Women who are being beaten up: stand your ground, just don't expect the law in Florida to back you up behind the stand-your-ground law if you are black, and don't expect Stevie Wonder to understand.

So it is a sleepy Sunday afternoon, when the social media networks are set on fire with the breaking news that George Zimmerman was found, 'not guilty', under the stand-your-ground law which allows someone to use deadly self-defence if they believe their life is in danger. 

The only one consequently then who has the potential weight of guilt of being dangerous, would then be the person who could no longer speak to defend himself: Travyon Martin, as he was silenced by his stiff, lifeless jaw in his deceased buried 17-year-old body.

Zimmerman claimed he acted out of self-defence. The funeral director added that there were no signs of a fight or scuffle with no knuckle bruising or any such evidence on his body. The law defended this deviant claim as Zimmerman left the safety of his SUV to hunt down a young black male who he, he had earlier reported to the police as saying, "This guy looks like he is up to no good. He is on drugs or something," even after the police dispatch was to not follow Martin.

 Zimmerman used the words, "Fucking punks. These assholes, they always get away." Zimmerman pursued to followed an unarmed young boy who committed no crime, except purchasing a bag of skittles and a soft drink as he walked back to his gated community at the Retreat at Twin Lakes. Zimmerman had become a self-appointed guardian of the community for "punks" like this.

So the law feels it right protect Zimmerman, the same way the Holocaust protected blue-eyed Germans. Why shouldn't we believe that the law is put in place to protect us black and ethnic minorities even though we are grossly under-represented in the UK and US political justice system? Racism still occurs in many subtle forms and one of them is oppression of justice through this so-called law of justice. 

I'll go even further to say the political system is darn right racist. 

The Department of Justice information showed that African-Americans jail time is almost 60 percent longer than white sentences. Also individuals who are black are 30% more likely to go to jail than their white counterparts after the same crime is committed. It is a modern-day, legal slavery, because the law which was set up to protect us, creates this invisible division based upon the visibility of your pigment. 

Talking about slavery and the law, there are women who experience the modern day version of slavery in their own homes under the control of their oppressor: their partner. The stand-your-ground law is surely in place for women like this who are oppressed to the point of rage, when they finally are triggered off and shoot bullet holes into the wall instead of in their husband, like in the case of Marissa Alexander.

Surely the stand-your-ground law is for such a case?

She got 20 years in prison.

It makes no sense? I forgot to mention she was black.

Make sense now?

In this case the state attorney who oversaw the case, Angela Corey stated, "Just because no one was harmed in the incident doesn't make the shooting any less a punishable crime". Yet Corey who was special persecutor in the Zimmerman's case somehow allowed the stand-your-ground law to be justifiably used in this unjustifiable circumstance which end up in the death of a young boy. She didn't have much to say about that.

Anyone with two cents for a brain could see that this is not justice, for a black woman being beaten by her husband. The law should stand like an older brother ready to fight overweight bullies, not to join in with the bullying, and then make it a fight about race: that just adds stinging salt to the wound. And then maybe some diet un top of it to make it infected and for the pain to last longer.

Basic legal law in the UK has the understanding that 'loss of control' can be immediate or delayed in cases of continuous abuse of a violent partner over a period of time, as based upon the Kiranjit Ahluwalia case, who killed her husband but her sentence was changed from murder to manslaughter, receiving 3 years and 4 months, the exact amount of time she had already served.

But for women who experience domestic violence in Florida, don't even think about the law defending you, especially if you are black. 

For young boys who walk the streets of Florida in search for a sweets and get shot, don't even think for the law to defend you either, especially if you are black. 

If you on the other hand are not to keen on black people and want to search the streets for a back person to shoot and kill, then please use the stand-your-ground law. Of course it is understandable, they are black and definitely dangerous and need to be wiped out. 

I think this is called the black Holocaust. 

You can probably see I am not the biggest fan of how the stand-your-ground law is being misused in the USA but similarly, I also think to abolish it would cause even less justice to be served. 

Stevie Wonder recently stated that he will not perform in Florida or any state that upholds the stand-your-ground law. I commend the thought behind the action, but I truly believe this allows self-defence to not be taken into account in special circumstances such as the Alexander and Ahluwalia case. 

What we should be fighting for as ethnic minorities, is in this timeless speech which would have been spoken 50 years ago next month by Martin Luther King: "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character", may I add, with the justice of a fair stand-your-ground law.

Stevie Wonder that is what we should be fighting for, don't you think?

The Artisan Workshop with Indigo Williams

In my last article I wrote about self-development and today I want to be specific about my latest self-development journey. 

I decided I wanted to develop my writing skills in regards to poetry so my writing can be authoritative without having to be performed to bring life to it's words. I wanted to cultivate my writing to bring out it's own power on the page. I had high aspirations for them to create the same elegance and refinement in poems I have wept over in crumpled books. I wanted to finally make the transition from writing selfishly with the purpose of venting to make myself feel (a lot) better, to writing for an audience which invites them in to share these feelings alongside me. 

I was hungry for knowledge regarding the theoretical skill of writing poetry.

So I asked around.... "Where do I go to become a better writer?" 

I kept hearing the name Indigo Williams, and if I was serious about understanding the technical side of poetry then that was the person I needed to go to, and luckily for me she was having a workshop coming up in the next few weeks in London. 

I was excited. 

Here is some of her work so you can have a taster before I go on... Indigo William's Poem: Dark Black

So now you understand. 

Indigo Williams was one of the first spoken word artists I most admired when I first learnt about the art of spoken word poetry only a few short months ago. I would see a chemistry lesson's worth of colours being exploded within fire as she would perform on her YouTube videos. She had something mysterious to me about the way she put words together and I could not miss the opportunity to be in a workshop with her and unravel first hand what made her writing so powerful. 

I live in Nottingham. The course was four weeks in London with one week at an open mic at Come Rhyme With Me - (by the way an unmissable night of spoken word in London). I didn't care, I just had to find a way to be there for every session or miss out on something great. In my eyes this was the same as travelling long distances for true love, for which people would suffer intense rainstorms, exhaustion and spend their life savings, just to get to their love's front door. Except this time my "love" was poetry, as taught by Indigo. London was the rainstorm and I exaggerated a bit on the exhaustion and life savings by watching too many romantic movies. 

But the question really is.... how far would you go for self-development?

Apparently I was willing to 1288 miles and this included the journeys back and forth over the five weeks. Now, if you are sitting at home and your self-development journey involves you going 10 minutes down the road, then you really have no excuse not to go!

My gut told me that this journey would be valuable and I am glad I listened. A whole new world opened up to me where dead poets, and those that were very much alive, started talking to me from the page telling me about structure, style and meanings in their poems. Between sessions, the Poetry Library in South Bank beckoned me in also out of the rainstorms (and often snow) and told me to keep warm from all the knowledge and experience these books had to offer me. I would get my list of books out that Indigo suggested to the class to read and I would get lost again in middle of London. 

In the sessions we dissected poems like dead bodies. I use this smilie because we had to say something interesting about ourselves in the first session with Indigo and I said that I used to dissect dead bodies for my anatomy class for my science degree which always gets an interesting response from people (...big up King's College, Biomedical Sciences class of 2008!) So I feel this smilie is rather fitting for this strange reason. 

Back to the point. Indigo's class was possibly poetry habit changing, like when you realise you are an addict and need help to break your old addictions, my hand is broken now to my old poetry habits. I now will read every new poem with a suspicious eye, knowing some poems would be bad influences on me to try to entice me back to my old way of thinking but I will laugh at those poems and move forward to better poems with a promise and a future. Now I am able to analyse and break each poem down knowing how to interpret a poem and the elements and stylistic qualities it used to create it's central voice.

After all of this intense learning, I must admit that the secret highlight for me was listening to Indigo's theories of life and looking at how her brain puts together the different truths of life into one thought provoking sentence. All I am saying is that you need to get yourself down to Indigo's next set of workshops to experience this yourself. 

If you are a poet you will learn from someone who is experienced and willing to give you all of her knowledge for the minimal price of the cost of the workshop. If you are not a poet then after Indigo's Artisan workshops you will become one. Any human being will benefit greatly from her life lessons. You will leave feeling awe-inspired and either not want to leave the building when she is still in there to share her passion of poetry or be scrambling for the nearest pen and paper to start writing for your next class.

Find all about Indigo from her website: http://indigowilliams.co.uk
She post a lot of insightful posts on her Tumbler: http://thestufflifeismadeof.tumblr.com
She is very opinionated on her Twitter: https://twitter.com/Indigowilliams
...and check out her videos on YouTube for some more good stuff. 

This Is What My Coffee Cup Looks Like Right Now

Searching For Love... Poem by Sacha Wise

I learnt love from the guy who loved me

I didn't want to be with him

    But still he loved me

I learnt heart break from the guy whom I loved

He didn't want to be with me

    But still I loved him

I learnt hostility from the guy I married

I learnt patience

    But he said he had never loved me

I will stop searching for love in basements

under stairs, in cupboards and on book shelves

Where instead all I find is dust and cobwebs

   and empty space. I will start recognising 

love when I see it and not fall for it's easier, 

uglier sister, who is more like 

a well meaning brother

     I will find you 

Or you will find me

Because like love 

we are meant to be together

I will 

one day 

love you

Interview with Poetical Tv about Domestic Violence, Dyslexia and my Inspirations

Poetical Tv: So what was the inspiration behind you writing your poem "Cover Me With Lace And Not Bruises"? 

Sacha: Well, I had to write a piece for a show 'Say Sum Thin 4' at the Nottingham Playhouse to perform as part of the Mouthy Poets collective. I had come out of a domestically violent relationship six months earlier and I remember sitting on my bed thinking it would be great if I would be able to speak about what I have experienced and not be ashamed about it. I know many women feel ashamed once they come out of domestically violent relationships due to the nature of the dynamics of being in such an unhealthy relationship. The violent partner tends to convince the other partner that the behaviour is all their fault. So they either stay in the relationship thinking they deserve this behaviour or leave the relationship often with low self-esteem making them prone to wanting to go back to the relationship. They feel worthless with no voice that is worth listening to. So as I sat upon my bed I made the decision to speak about what I had experienced even though I too was a bit ashamed at the time as well. I knew on some level if I ever wanted to help anyone else who had experienced anything remotely similar then I would have to be brave and speak up. I am so glad I did as now it is clear to me that any violent actions are fully accountable by the person who made the decision to be violent or aggressive. As it is a choice they made.

Please read the rest of the interview by clicking this link

Sacha Wise's Interview with Poetical Tv

"Cover Me With Lace Not Bruises" Video Footage From Say Sum Thin 4

Look On The Bright Side Of Life. I Like Flowers.

Look on the BRIGHT side of life

There will be always new flowers to smell

There will always be a new sky to breathe

There will always be new dream to reach

There will always be new memories to have

There will always be a new person to love

But there will only ever be one you

LOVE yourself

Don't Despise The Creative Process: Live It.

Frustration can be like a garbage truck pouring out 2 week old stench unto your work. It's hard to get any work done. 

The way we wind ourselves up as creative people all stems from the voices inside our head. I believe you have this creative, "good" voice which tells you the sky is no limit, only art to paint and stuff like that. Whilst it's arch enemy is the more sinister, "bad" voice which tells you every thing you produce is utter trite, so please continue to beat yourself up or even better just give up! With these voices floating around, maybe it's no wonder creative people scientifically have a higher risk of having a mental illness. But I am not trying to scare you, so please read on....

Many artists struggle, especially in the beginning when they think these two voices are the same and completely infallible at any given moment. So a person goes back and forth, acting on both of these voices at a whim hence causing a lot of confusion with their work and it's purpose. Well, I believe there is a place for both voices but only in the right context. 

In the beginning at the start of the creative process. That "bad" voice will get you into trouble, making you give up before you have even started. We don't want that. We want to give ourselves freedom to move, breathe, express and feel and let it all out, like our disorganised bedrooms. That is the beginning of creativity, just letting it all out and not caring. We love all the stuff in our disorganised bedrooms because it is ours and we know where everything is intimately but maybe others may not be able to appreciate the personal mess you have created in your own bedroom. Maybe they would ask you kindly (or unkindly) to clean it up. 

And that is where we our "bad" voice or even other "bad" voices come in. It may tell you things that hurt and make you upset, but if you can get past defensiveness then maybe you can look at criticism for what it really is... free help to make your piece even better. Awesome! Doesn't seem so bad any more does it? We create lots of messy stuff like children and then we use this "bad" adult voice to refine it's potential and clean up. 

This is the painful process of editing.

When has tidying your room ever been a bad thing that has caused you harm??? No it's a positive thing, that's helpful in making you feel happier and more fulfilled. So this "bad" voice, that is necessary to edit and improve your piece, wants to be turned into a sigh of satisfaction and into a pat on the back that says, "Well done mate, you did well." This can only happen when you view this "bad" voice in a constructive way, listen and then put in all the necessary work. 

Yes, you have to be inspired many times to be creative, but a wise person told me that you need to get to the stage where you are internally creating your own inspiration. It is all about taking control of the creative process and making it work for you. Be the kindest and the harshest person to yourself but in the right context. Then you will see creativity flowing from every source and beyond.

Lastly, it is important not to feel ashamed of your creative process as the negative voice will try to creep in from the start and tell you to hide the piece, throw it away and get as far away from it as possibly because it is rubbish!!! But we don't throw away a new born baby as soon as it is born do we? No, we allow the baby to grow even if they are not fulfilling their life purpose yet, instead we continue to nurture it and have faith that one day it will. 

I have tried to apply this principle to my poetry, by documenting the same poem in the embarrassing early stages and to a more refined (yet, possibly unfinished but I am more happy with) stage. 

Free Write

1st Edit

2nd Edit

I have done this to help myself get over the approval of needing to be perceived as good writer at all times which will only enhance my early stages of creative work. Also I have done this as well so maybe someone who has never considered writing poetry may look at my early piece and think it is possible for them to write something as well, instead of looking at the more developed piece and think it is beyond them, which it is definitely not. We all thought it might of been beyond us at some stage. 

Please comment to any part of this article if you agree or disagree, or if you would like to see more articles like this one up on my blog. Also share this article if you think any of your friends could benefit from reading this.

In the meanwhile, keep listening, learning and being intensely creative!

"Creativity is playing. A child's mind in an adult's body." Sacha Wise

2nd edit of "No Name Except The Name In My Head"

Fingers tap away on my heart
as if trying to create rhythm

I can't dance when your watching
or when I am sober. So I drink red wine

Moods change into a salsa

creating raw energy from our minds
intellectually moving me

to the floor where childish dreams
lie between my bruised thighs

and your biceps pin me down

assertively aching my insides

Facial muscles tense but lips tender
looking for saliva to heal cuts

Unqualified to service you with kisses
Everything is gone in my first aid box

But I never expected to find bird songs 

in the rough mines of your vocal cords

It's so hard to find steel toe capped boots 

that protect you these days

So I'll keep creating wishes for you
even if I have to blow them out

The light looks so free dancing
as if lost in the darkness of your eyes

In anticipation beautifully packaged boxes
are stroked but can't yet be opened

Make your wish
I'll borrow the one that's left over

I wish

You stop searching for heartache
and find what your looking for

because then you will find in yourself
what you most admire

'A Poem That Is Calling For Respect' by Sacha Wise

RESPECT ME

without dismissing

RESPECT ME

like I am human

RESPECT ME

without changing me

RESPECT ME

I am human

RESPECT ME

like I'm you

RESPECT ME

I bleed brokenness too

RESPECT ME

I want so many things I can't have

don't need but admire

You

I feel bottled up inside your words

as you smash them on me

skin is broken

I bleed

so

do you

I ask for what you

find impossible to give

RESPECT

Mighty word

with action

so your sorry

is just a sorry reaction

Leave me empty and alone

I'd rather that than saying your my home

Treasure us like the past

because you don't

know me

or

owe me

Just respect the need for you to

not be in my life

I can't keep

saying it

with

empty words

that miss your ears 

and miss

mine

like

please 

one 

day

respect 

me



Then we can start again

like we never ended

my friend

'Don't Trust Electric Sparks' Poem

I like you in a way that is undefinable so please don't try define me

My body getting close to you is just an electric spark going wild

It means NOTHING, I just can't control it

Your smile may mean everything but your love says make an effort

I can't hear the sharps and flats of love notes in your voice anymore

I am deaf to hearing anything about love

So please stop tuning me like your going mad for me to hear them cause I can't

Fantasies, even good ones, should be only that as you never use contraception

and they don't create BABIES

So stop all exercise, cause your muscles can't carry my problems

I prefer myself disliking your stubborn streak saying it's too much like me

Keep distance between our cities

To stop me from giving up everything I have ever owned to go live in yours

LIke ripped paper hats and popped party balloons on a hungover morning

We were never meant to be FOREVER

Your just a flicker of light for someone else's night time apartment

I have a power cut in my bedroom but I need a more permanent solution

Which we can never be so I am sorry….

I still think about you when I go to sleep and dream about you when my brain stops thinking

But our dreams don't go far enough to meet my needs or to stop us both being paralyzed 

"Cover Me With Lace Not Brusies" Poem against Domestic Violence

Today I was on the bus on my way into town and I saw a demonstration against domestic violence called One Billion Rising. I had to stop and come and hear more. I stood there and just knew I had to share my own experiences with the crowd that had gathered. The beauty about freedom is it give you ability to speak up, shout out and make a difference. I had this poem that I shared with the crowd that had gathered about domestic violence. It was a very empowering moment. I almost cried and other women did cry. Thank you for caring about such an important cause #1billionrising

Closed doors, shutting out memories
But cracking holes into her soul
So distant, the brokenness is his bully
He's protecting her like a used condom  

She’ll say, “Why do you dethrone me publically?”
He’ll say, “Why do I feel like you never there for me?”
But, "I'm right here", she'll cry
He'll look her in the eye and say, "And I'm just trying to make you better"

Her words want to say something
That doesn’t need the pain relief of alcohol
But the waver in her voice isolates her
Innermost thoughts from most people

Looking for warmth in a thin lace shawl
Wrapping it over her arms to cover the bruises
But it barely covers her heart
Her mind is cloudy with excuses

She remembers speaking his words not hers
“No one’s loved her like he has”
“No one’s even known her like he has”
“Who else would want her?”-It must be true love 

She waited for this to make sense to her
While he convinced her with scripture
She was disobedience in the act
Every doubt he saw, he took as a fact 

She became like a bad actor not knowing character
But looking at the face paint her bruises made
And feeling the bumps and hills across her face
Still, with dinner on his plate bang on eight 

Hands moulding children out of dumplings
French kissing with lasagne
Waiting for passion to heat up in the oven
But when he came home, she was still alone 

He would aim words like nuclear weapons
They would feed off each others negative emotions
He would store revenge like a recipe
So don’t tell me married people can’t get raped 

Hatred overcoming love in a race of pride
This lace shawl placed round her neck and over her eyes
Fighting him for bits of light in the darkness of where she lies
Before she’s switched off completely 

She rips through lace, to expose the bare skin
Policemen looking
Like they understand the pain she’s been in
Asking her to cut off all promises, like circumcision 

She knows his heart was broken before
She's a doctor trying to save the bloody thing
But it's more like heart transplant
Where she has to give him hers for him to live 

She’s asking for love to be transformed into light
That goes faster than the eye
That way he wouldn't be able to stop it penetrating his insides
She would be his superhero 

Cause as a little girl her fantasies defied gravity
Now gravity pulls her into black holes of confusion
The concussion has gone to her head
And she is too dizzy to consider her future 

She can’t stay she’ll be destroyed
She can’t leave he’ll be destroyed
Choices she’s been trying to avoid making for 5 years
And it’s not easier to make 5 years later 

Making her despises freedom
As she is battling with it under her duvet
Her voice sounds to her like an out of tune choir
But it's telling her to forgive  

It tells her to look into her own eyes next time
Instead of believing someone else’s lies
That is the only way you’ll find freedom   

When you're alone

This Is A Poem I Wrote From A Memory I Had Today

Broken From Birth

Being heart broken the way to healing

Women choose men for this reason

Decision made from broken homes

left on cold conciousness of stone

and forgotten

Until a woman in love remembers 

all the maternal faces he has known 

And guides his mouth towards hers

as she sucks in his pain as her own

poison

Trust her to also go

She looks just like the other women

so he pushes her

She falls

She is not safe in his crumbling tower

She can't be stronger than his mother 

He blames but she no longer listens

to his pain

His moans sound the same as

ice-cream falling out of undeveloped hands

and tantrums 

throwing her to the ground

How Raw Can Love Get?

I am your stalker
I am the piece of bread that gets thrown to the ducks
I am the saliva in your mouth
I am the dirt that gets thrown up from your wheels
I am the bit of mouldy food in the fridge
I am the unmade bed you lie in
I am broken door of your favourite wardrobe
I am the wobbly table at Nandos
I am the uninvited guest
I am the homeless man begging
I am the broken laptop
I am the Big Issue seller
I am the loner in the playground
I am your dirty washing
I am unopened letters
I am liquid on your Macbook Pro
I am a snapped handle to your Louis Vuitton
I am the chewing gum in your mouth
I am a power cut
I am a stolen car
I am throwing up

I am LOVE in its rawest state...