Extr-act

Experimental poetry and prose extracted from within.

I sit in a corporate office with glass windows. I long-walk on ashen concrete roads. I hoard frozen ready-to-eat meals. I sift through the everyday like an anonymous, ordinary being. On an idle Tuesday, life happened when I tried writing.

This is a space where experimental tendencies are explored.

Here, stillborn prose is casually flung away like bread crumbs in the bin.

Here, my hand reaches within and scoops, scrapes, extracts residual inhibitions.

Here, I act against good, rational, logical judgement.

Forgive me for the wrong use of commas, I love them so.

And meaningless writings and unended sentences.

You might see a museum or perhaps peak into a graveyard (rightfully so).

Before you trash my writing, I confess I have done that many times too.

So don’t take it seriously.

This is only a space where experimental tendencies are explored.