Solange Smith at Tess Management photographed by Tom Mitchell.
Poetry by Solange Smith
Spinning machine
I wish I had the comfort of knowing nothing else
To be able to sit in this shelter
To be unbothered by the afternoon swelter
Your screen glows bright
As I struggle to watch you bask in the blinding light
Escaping you say to me
Is all I’ll ever be
Whilst you stand still
And I run towards my reality
Chaos and order
I watch as the different colours continue to spin
My mind still torments my skin
As I toy with the yes’s and no’s
The should I stay or should I go’s
A washing machine with no end
As I watch pieces of myself spin
And drain all my ideas into the bin
If life were that simple wouldn’t we all live without pain?
If every priest a saint and psychologist sane
If the world were a perfect white line
Surely we’d know the way to the goldmine
No need for that hotline
Your screen continues to glow bright
Instead of enjoying the night
I won’t hold on to this fight
And so I rid of the dirty laundry from the mud
And finally water the flower bud
Gone with the shadow in the corner
Still trying to figure out my chaos and order
