Tumble-dry

I've always enjoyed doing laundry, in a strange way. I've not had a passion for it, per se, but fabrics always tell a great story. Personally, I think that this is one of my poems that has managed to have a more developed story. At the very least, it outlives a moment.   I've been through it… Continue reading Tumble-dry

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

Pentimenti

You're looking at me as though I'm enough to strike your match, hit home; and it'll devour you, lungs first as you watch me, your worst. Frankenstein, you and I, your pocket litter. .      Ephemera balled in your jeans - Picasso of your genes.      You sud yourself neck-deep in      lemon scented hand… Continue reading Pentimenti