poet, wanderer, writer.
I have been making pieces of jewellery since I was about 10. I would say it was my first ever creative venture and I absolutely loved running off to the shops and getting supplies after school.
By Damilola3 years ago in Viva
When I first moved into my apartment, it was completely empty. I was attracted to its very cheap monthly rent as it was in the outskirts of Sheffield. I also loved the slanted architecture and the fact that it was tiny. Just enough for me to sleep, cook, dance around, and spend some quality time by myself.
By Damilola3 years ago in Lifehack
Can I compare summer to a filthy whore? Swaying her inviting hips to tempt her victims Off to the beach they go in large numbers to explore
By Damilola3 years ago in Poets
Summer died and began to rot with some maggots on its prey I was home and locked in, with a fabric on my face I could see the glistening sky with red berries on hot days
Sat in a quadrant of the saffron-yellow beaming ball of sun our mouths muttered syllables of gratitude for one more month
I had been writing in grey strokes, straight lines, no calligraphy so I missed every colour my mind went to whenever I thought of you
My mother told me, that my accent— is like a warm glass of milk, and a jar of honey, a sweetness in the form of rare indulgent berries
My face is red with blisters, burnt and sore, but I cover it up with mud and coloured Khol, cheese and smile, must take a picture
Lieutenant please Can I ask to simply live? Without your all important commentary, your feigned superiority and the oppression of my being.
It can get freezing cold and scalding hot. Warm like summer days and breezy on spring nights. I’ve been blessed to see the brightest point of the day and the darkest of the nights. There have also been cloudy mornings and orange tinted evenings.
She runs hot and cold like fire and ice Like heaven and hell, of mice And main Two different captains
My anxiety can be Red, I can’t see past the present, so my tears are not silent My screams are stuck in my throat But they soon come out, like I’ve been hit with a belt Whiffs, coarse sighs, and heavy breaths.