You turn a cataract-cloudy eye, and so I try to ignore you, hangnail, even as your words rise like a scar - red, ruined, inflamed, far from blame, as it is my own doing, my own ruin. And so I turn over a page, cold-sunshine books pregnant with happy-ever-afters, and laughter soaked into spines. Write once-upon-a-times… Continue reading Carousel
I wanted to share the news that I've recently compiled a chapbook of my poems, and had them printed! It's not my first time having produced a book (without going via the publising route), as last year, I was Managing Director of a company called 'Firefly', and printed a glow-in-the-dark children's book tackling mental health… Continue reading Extra Strong
They watched a woman rot. Watched as she made like the Wicked Witch of the West and warped, into something resembling a dead fox, lying on the doorstep of the care home where the uncared for are monitored by the careless. . Men in cold suits, the colour of industrialisation talk to men with hard… Continue reading Carcass
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
You make me want to put my fingers at my temples Dig them in, massage away the sound of your voice the way you leave me no choice, your cruel insinuations Scratch with my nails, mark crescents around my ears You paste me under the wallpaper, hang my toes from the chandeliers. I wear away… Continue reading Skinned.
O Goddess of the Deep South, The end to meet all beginnings strike me with a poker come collect your winnings. I feel you in the tremor of my knees rasping against my wrist. My very own sultry, summer breeze, wheezing, icing sugar hurricane Just-ripe peach peeling out of your skin… Continue reading Hymn to the Infinite
by the time I spotted the attack I was wounded. sneering sniper. you hurl lightning verbs, bright, sharp like lemon sherbet shards slicing my tongue that is tied around them, caught by the cat, writhing, gleaming carp. then come the pronouns the thunder-boulders that you cast as though weightless, the sticks and stones that are… Continue reading havocaine