nine eggs

void left in a space for ten
a perfect place to dump thoughts
about which comes first
and what goes last
and whether where it came from
makes a difference

next time around we’ll use
a carton just enough for all
nobody should fight over
who will have more square footage
no excuses for envy

for now, void left in a space for ten
emptiness descends and occupies

we’ll start the countdown
from nine


For #whisperingneds 142, “nine eggs”.

© annie scribes 2019
all rights reserved


we’re not meant to stand still

do you know how long we’ve been here?
our souls are covered with dust
hearts unable to see rust
all over bones

if not for dawn taking turns with dusk
for earth traipsing around sun
we’d be stuck in the past

comfort attached to being unchanged
useless currency
you can’t even purchase memories
with same old promises

I emptied my backpack
making room for new pebbles
I’ll pick up along the way

may we soon overgrow this stagnant state
rendering us safe
but more deadened
by the day


Listen here.

For #WhisperingNeds 141, ‘stasis/aspic/amber/pickles/preserve/sameness’.

© annie scribes 2019
all rights reserved


even if happiness is a sin

I know why our paths diverged
and I can’t say I’m sorry

yours leads to a place
where dreams are shackled
to steel box full of rules
where pictures are drawn
to people’s expectations
and tongue can only taste
sour or bitter

the road in my head
is lined with crazy ideas
inventing ways to fly
with wingless wishes
because I’ve seen how it’s done
and I want to be there

we came from the same
space, but now I beg to differ

as distance between us
I thank me
for letting myself
be happy


A gratitude note.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

wickedness within


Written for gratitude note and #WhisperingNeds 139, ‘tips’.

Audio here.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved


You’ll know when you’ve been bitten. You’re left with a sting, an itch. The uncomfortable sensation demanding a scratch, a touch. Like curiosity, pulling for more. More trips. More kisses. More chances to hear more promises.

Some bites turn you into an addict, pushing you down on your knees, making you crawl, wanting more of their poisonous elements. They’re spread like a virus, numbing, paralyzing. You’re left kneeling, helplessly full of hope, anticipating another bite.

You’ll know when you’ve been bitten.

You’ll just know.


For #WhisperingNeds 138, ‘bugs’.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

leaping towards you

There’s a reason why I follow your shadow—it pulls and wraps me in a space I can’t explain. A certain… je ne sais quoi.

All I know is I’m walking around with my head in the clouds. Full of feelings yet lighter than air. Taller than the tallest trees, yet grounded, like I just discovered my roots.

Ever so lightly you touch the edges of my soul, and I pirouette, responding to yours—our dance has just begun.


For #OctPoWriMo Day 10, ‘dancing on air’.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

emotion: re-defined

abstract as a painting sitting pretty
under soft light on museum wall

crystal as morning when fog lifts
revealing ground fresh with dewdrops

so Nazareth says
source of hurt like nothing else

but I pin it on my chest
wear it proud and tender

for even in the spaces
of four letters

lives you.


For #OctPoWriMo Day 9, ‘love’.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

closed exhibitions

To all of us, pieces of art.

They may not appreciate why we’re here and what we create. We’re not our art pieces, but they are us; because they’re ours, born out of pain, out of yearning, out of happiness.

In movement, and in stillness, we live. In chaos, and in silence, we love. We find liberation in words, in dances, in sculptures, in music. We search for peace in emptiness, just because they say void is a bad thing, and we want to prove them wrong—by god, do we ever want to prove them wrong.

We are pieces of art, and if they cannot see that, screw them. We are pieces of art, in an unknown gallery on an unnamed street—and we’ll continue to create and become the extremes, even if we’re the only ones who understand.


For #WhisperingNeds 137, ‘appreciate, disagree, liberate’.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved