January 15, 2014 § 1 Comment
the moon is cold on my fingertips
like an icy bathroom
when the steam shower is turned off
and all that’s left are
chubby clouds of condensation
finding mirrors to cover
in a silk veil of frost.
the moon is cold on my fingertips,
as I touch the window between us,
letting my blood-heat
warm the glass
a lick from the air,
a rain drop from no-where.
January 10, 2014 § Leave a comment
December 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
December 4, 2013 § Leave a comment
Tomorrow everything will begin again
duvets will give birth
skin daisy-print fresh,
to a day wiped clean
like a mother pushing a damp cloth
around a sticky child’s cheeks.
The dotted stars
promise purity is near
and with a breath
we are crowned by flames
that paint a fresh aura
around each blade of grass
sliding softly in it’s sky arc
pulling away savoured minutes
from weary arms.
But now dark bathes eyelids
with whispers of what is to come
carried on night’s heavy breath.
Tomorrow, everything will begin again.
November 8, 2013 § 1 Comment
October 22, 2013 § Leave a comment
The sea wind drowns out their shouts quickly.
The waves crash around my ears and soon I forget that they had even been screaming at me.
They had been shouting “what are you doing?” which is a stupid question, really. I thought it was obvious when
I stood up,
walked straight into the ocean
and started swimming towards the horizon with all my might
that I was swimming away from them.
Did they really expect me to turn around and explain it to them?
Explain that it is all their fault?
Well it is too late now, they are tiny dots, little blurs on the sand, feet crashing into the waves as they throw their arms in the air, empting lungs into the wind.
That’s what I would see if I could turn around, but I can’t. I need to keep going forwards.
Kick, kick, kick.
Kick them all away.
October 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
I saw them.
They didn’t see me but, I saw them. I saw them in all their glory.
My stomach dropped to the ground like a body thrown from a moving car. I wanted to rip out my hair, all in one big tug, and then I wanted to rip out all of their hair. And their skin, and eyes.
I couldn’t look away.
It was as if I thought if I kept looking at them, staring, on the corner of the street, that the picture would change and everything would suddenly click back to normal. They would mould into different people and I wouldn’t have a voice screaming inside my head, pumping boiling blood to my ears.
But the picture never changed. It was them, I could see them. And I would never un-see them.