a reading

She asks you:

What are you doing here?

Dice click, rolling over her knuckles, candle light wanes.

You answer:

Learning how to love.

She lowers her hood, an unblinking bright blue eye, the colour of a summer with a girl who made you feel like you were not alone; the colour of an ocean that you nearly drowned yourself in when she left.


Try again.


She asks you:

What are you doing here?

A bird preens itself; there is the smell of lavender.

You answer:

Learning how to live.

She stretches out her wrist, black choked veins, the colour of a thick spew of oil and of lines in a balance sheet, the colour of a black out on a street with no signs occupied by people who have already seen apocalypse.





She asks you:

What are you doing here?

There are mirrors everywhere, refracting light from different worlds.

You answer:

Learning how to die.

She stretches out into a smile, her body is a circle, the colour of the deepest winter sunset witnessed by all life upon beginning and upon ending, the colour of deep acceptance and of a battleground.


She says:


a reading


Mum, I’m tired of painting myself.

Shaving my body until I am sleek feels like a self-harm

I love the furry down that grows on me and reminds me of how many years my skin has had

But tonight I am shaving myself sleek again

Before I paint myself to look like a golden goddess that you see inside glowing glass

My hands move around my chest in circular motions

I’m expressionless,

Preparing a corpse,

Mum, I look like I’m dying.

Did I get 100 likes yet?


Mum, I’m tired of chain smoking.

It makes me so fucking sick and I’m always coughing

But I’ve told myself that it is a stress relief because I need that

Do I need that? I probably need a one-way ticket to the middle of a forest, to be told

To create something in that solitude

Before I become part of a concrete block-

4 stories of artificial light and decaying human beings.

Mum, I feel like a blip of data.

Do you wanna talk about anything yet?


Mum, I’m tired of the circle of mould on the wall by my bed.

All this time we’ve been told that this life is an exciting journey

That one-day we’ll be understood as if we are all different

But life is, in fact, one dull grey sky after another.

It’s learning to wake up every morning at 7am and drink your coffee

And look at the sunrise bleeding bright pink and truly know

That this is the most beautiful thing you will see today.

Mum, you needed to teach us

To embrace monotony.






We throw around the word ‘beautiful’ a lot.

As poets, as dreamers, as people moving about in the world.

Beautiful gives off a sense of purity, a sense of righteousness, a societal achievement.

I will begin to push away the beautiful for the whole sense of self.

I am whole.

I am not beautiful.

I do things that I know I should not do, things that will age me, make me ugly, make me unkempt, make me hated, make me self hate.

But I bring these things into myself to create a whole.

Whole not as in the common meaning of the word when a half and a half meet and they meet perfectly and become one.

But when you look at an aspect of your being and you think


This is me-

It is not perfect

But I am doing the best that I can.

I am a whole person.

I will self destruct, I will implode, I will love, I will be loved, I will hate, I will rage, I will write, I will procrastinate, I will be lazy and self hate for a month, I will run into a glorious sunset the next.

I will taste every broken shard of this existence and they may make me bleed and I will look to the sky and plead for more.

I will embrace the fractured parts of myself and love them enough to call them a divine whole.


embers in april

You are a high-functioning human being.


Pretty enough to approach, smart enough to succeed, balanced enough to


-Roll an ember around in your hands-


-an ember-


I have friends that slink around in the heavily pregnant shadows of a wet evening

They know me so well.

Sometimes they want to terrify me, sinking their burnt coal fingernails sharp into old memory;

Sometimes they pour sticky toffee sweet love all over me, huddling into my neck like lap dogs;

They visit at odd, disjointed times

To whisper and weave and cackle and growl;

I try to breathe deeply to find peace but they know

I want to fight and bleed and hurt others and be hurt

-Roll an ember around in your hands-


They know that I am bored.

-an ember-


You are a high-functioning human being.


embers in april

7am (self-talk)

Let’s slash


This crawling juncture of sleepy smoke and eyes prised open-

Why not go?

I’ll drag myself through a drunken sunrise and emerge

Alert and sparkling clean-

You’ll be grasping the bones of my wrist looking dazed-

And I’ll laugh:

‘Have you ever seen it this beautiful before?’


A child’s frown-

‘But it’s ugly,

It’s fucked up, it’s a wreck.’

Smile slips-

I was in love with it, a grey that one could sink into and nobody would look for you-

Submerged in a silence and a noise, a humming forest of slick concrete-

You look up and say:

‘I do like this rain though.’

We are soaked through.

7am (self-talk)

self growth/decay

My outline is blurry now

The fade from breath engaging with frost on a window in Autumn,

I’ve left her behind.

Scan for her body in the garden where I’m burying her slowly

as she decides to lay down;


A new heartbeat grows stronger every day

I feel tainted and confident and disgusted,

I want to leave it all behind.

Scan for my exhaustion, sweat layered under my cockiness

Her body’s in the garden,


I’m burying her slowly.

self growth/decay

@ the butcher

Today was another day that I stepped back into that room

The one where flames licked the walls as you spat at me

You spat at me and told me that it wasn’t rape

Take my finger and point it at the head of a girl

Who got drank too much

Wore that dress

Said yes the first time

& Shoot.


Today was another day that I stepped back onto that driveway

The one where the moonlight is pooling red around me

Your hollow teen eyes filling up with alcohol watching it happen

I wonder if you think about all those nights

And cringe now

I wonder if you’ve tried to push it down

Like I have,

Smother it.


Today was another day that I tried to please your ego

By being less loud, less opinionated, less intelligent, less brave

I’m a butcher everyday, I choose which chunk of myself to present to you

To make myself more palatable

So I’ll lie down next to you

All of you

Every single one

& Carve.

@ the butcher