Handled

To turn on and off like a switch

With a click I'm on pause and replay

like an entertainment system

I disguise under a compressed file with the tag 'work'
I slide into archive during busy afternoons
But make a reappearance between tobacco and expresso charged 
mid day breaks 


I fill in two hour lunch slots
as I part good bye just before the last bus leaves

When you sleep I wrap around your feet, to keep them warm
And dissipate once they touch the carpeted floor in the morning

When I'm too quiet to bear
I somersault to the rear end of your brain 
the weight of unknown words might smash the concrete platform 
I tread tonight softly

The leash around my neck lies loose
As I jump, run and spin


I can't move too far
the sides of my neck are chaffed
But if the other option is to be slotted and forgotten till replay

I'd rather bleed and walk 

                            away.

Photography : Kimberly Jow