8.20 Train

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

Dreaming of Hell

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

She Bled Red Wine

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

Boxes Undone

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

Your veins share a portion of ruthlessness with my rib cage. My blackened lungs. A certain unwavering determination to spit in the faces of those who dont beleive in you. Your hands grew lines a long time ago, etched by Arabic scribe. Fine lines that tell of only dark things. Fairy Tales of laughter, inside … More

Dead Meat

In rage, I imagine the suffocation of a bull, in clear plastic. Layers, and layers of clear plastic. It can fight. It can call. But it’s strength will be it’s death. It will die. It’s how I feel, and the image I rewind and pause like an old movie, when I feel this way. Pounding … More Dead Meat

Compost

Lay me down, beneath the beckoning branches of the giants. Drive the marker into the earth, and pray, for my soul.

Pull…

We can undo the knot, that keeps it all in. You can walk away with it, still attached to the skin and I will unravel. Peel. Fray, and open up like a unbound flower. Allowed to breath from the first time. To breathe, and then to wilt, and fall limply to my knees, and you … More Pull…

12 Hours

I find it hard to write, when that is all I want to do. There is a riot of words going on in my skull, which now feels trapped and confined and plagued by the inability to articulate how I am feeling. I feel as though my spine may snap at the neck, with the … More 12 Hours