Summer nights all sounds the same; the rattle of the heat, against the humidity and the thick of the shame that settles on the city eleven floors below. My skin is sticky with cigarette smoke, and the wretched weariness that feels more like dehydration of the mind; each thought, each movement – an effort not … More 8.20 Train
Tonight, I am afraid to sleep; for fear I will sink too deep. Past the mangled red trees, where reason can’t reach, and into that place where the lost ones weep. Wail. Mourn out loud of wisdom stolen in foolish folly or worse; a second of disconnected dispassion. Hell. The carcass that still lives. The … More Dreaming of Hell
I wrapped her, in red ribbon. I breathed against her skin, and heard her thoughts crashing against the inside of my skull, like bones clicking when stretched too far. She ached. Though I didn’t know why. Nor could I ask. Not yet. Her eyes changed colour with each mechanical snap of the lens. A flash … More She Bled Red Wine
In the aftermath of the tippled boxes come undone; ribbons untied, and words scraped from corners of a pale skinned mind, unrefined; do I say I am sorry? When I was just a girl, in dresses printed in sunshine and sewn together with trust, I learned that words mean very little. Unless, they cause an … More Boxes Undone
There are moments when we feel loss, in a way that ravages the outskirts of even the boundaries that we have set for ourselves. In the next breath, we can swim through love, as though it were a kind of sickness, that tears through the lungs and leaves you choking on its depths. I have … More Souvenirs of Yesterday
I have the backbone for war, for blood soaked skin, hair soaked in red victory. Eyes bright green, manic with the dance of songs written before my time. My stomach is knotted at the thought of what lies ahead. So many broken people, who will effectively have to lay their swords down and trust me. … More Incoming, Oh YES!
I get confused. The jackets made from the skin of the underdog, worn with a dismissive self importance. I dont like the familiar, but I will forgive the stranger – until he starts to button up that swagger. Until the corners of his lips curl, at the expense of a poor man on his knees. … More I Burn
I have always mocked my brothers for their mushy well put together strings of loving almost song like things they say to their wives and girlfriends while in my company. On some occasions I will pretend to need to wind down a window to throw up. They use affectionate names, and when in each others … More How Not to Write a Love Poem
Thin hairline fractures, that lay submerged in anger; long enough that they swelled into gaping holes. To go over them, would be like navigating the latitude, and the longitute and the gravity and the declination of something already dead. Our past lay dissected on an autopsy table. The rib cage of what was exposed for … More Suck it Up.
My pistol is holstered, my knives tucked away. My neck exposed. My fists unwrapped; my mind hidden behind niceties and tea and cake. You have hidden your weapons. Your tongue speaks lies, and your eyes speak truth. You wage war just by being here.
writing as a way of life
My ramblings poems and musings enjoy or not no pressure
The varied thoughts of a millennial modern linguist.
Talking about real things
Poetry and Poems
All that is me!
CRIME WRITER
Fabulously Refined/Wildy Inappropriate
A home for the stories and poems that got away.
I Kill My Own Spiders
character limited descriptions kind of give me anxiety
A few new poems every week. Haikus on Sundays.
Mocking Bird Down 