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Bleaching amidst the garbage,a blue mask, now bone-grey.Slipped from careless fingersinto the rot.Forgotten in a chorus of coughsand open mouths.Discarded when it became inconvenient.“Vax and relax.”The virus lingered.Quietly threading veins and arteries.Organs.It whispers nowwhere there were once gasps.Life expectancy dropslike a body into soil.The earth will swallow the plastic slowly.And us with it.
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About Me
Tash isn’t a terribly complicated person. They write because it feels like a release, but most of their writing is unrefined and unedited—an honest mess that bleeds onto the page like spilled ink.
Occasionally, you might see glimpses of brilliance and strange beauty among the emotional debris—but more often it’s just stream-of-consciousness musings as they work through the mundane moments of the everyday while the world burns.
Blood in the Bramble 