Wheezing Roses

You say “There’s no air in this coffee shop love. Though I wheeze with my bellows,  when I find you  in canary yellow you're the colour of my insides, don't you know, love?" . What you haven't figured out, is that, without a doubt, though you throw away your Oolong I've stained you now, throughout. I… Continue reading Wheezing Roses


Kingmaker. White wine vinegar massacre. That’s what you are, Kerosene And that's what you do when you sculpt the world Like it’s your plasticine, your toy. Your five-billion-year-old bell boy On crooked knee by your calves Waiting to lift the sky on your command. And you’re not promising him El Dorado, or any land For that… Continue reading Kingmaker