Dear Fellow Pirate, In response to your beautiful poem, I write this letter while holding a telescope, I mean periscope (or whatever that looking thing is called), fighting off a big burly man who wanted to steal my compass, AND also, while growling instructions at my crew. I am pretty sure if I wanted to, … More Come With Me Now
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
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 have thought back over the last few years of my sobriety, on the friendships I have had and what sparked them, or what brought those friendships crashing down. It is safe to say that even as a small girl, any interaction I had with a fellow school mate, or anyone who I deemed a … More Broken Things. Awesome.
Your restlessness has not gone unnoticed. Your heavy heart can be heard through the thin walls; it clangs like tins being dragged behind, tied mercilessly to lame footed, wearisome prey. Near surrender. Your pacing has marked the floorboards. Worn bare the carpet, exposing the pattern of your minds repetitive rhyme. Slowing down your own time. … More Dear Soldier
There is a saltiness to your face and an awkwardness to your grace. A callousness to your blackened skin, and a refined serration to each word unhinged. You mock me, with silence – though I will admit, I am surprised by my own lack of; anything. How did that line go? Did you kiss your … More For You, The Girl Who Once Was
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
S sat on her haunches, head tilted slightly, watching J sleep. It was more of a ‘willing J to wake up’, really, but so far had been choosing to do it silently. With patience not being one of her strongest suits, S took her index finger and jabbed J in the forehead. J rolled over … More The (Un)Secret Childhood Dialogue Chronicles – Ninja.
S dashed out of the bathroom cubicles, clingfilm in hand, grinning from ear to ear. Two minutes later J comes creeping around the corner with a now empty tub of Vaseline. ‘Get them all?’ ‘Yeah! Whoever invented perforated clingfilm is a legend.’ Both girls head off to wait in the dark for the chaos to … More Toilet Seats and Vaseline