Me and I

My favourite place to write is in the bath. I have a cut of wood which rests on the sides, allowing me to scrawl like nobody’s business until the pages are damp. Damp pages remind me of how squishy my feelings are - squeezing my heart and soul for coherent thought, art - and how … Continue reading Me and I

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The Seed in my Chest

I wonder if I knew why I was crying, would answers open themselves up to me like heaven’s gates? I don’t imagine they will be pearly white or morally sane, but they will be answers all the same. Answers for why buried in my chest is a seed. The size of a plum or sometimes … Continue reading The Seed in my Chest

Red Tutu

I'm sat on a bench in an pub in London. I'm sure someone has vomited here, caressed the inner thigh of another here, spent the day drinking into five pm oblivion here. This is the first time I've been here and hopefully not the last. It's almost midnight and the pub is heaving. There is … Continue reading Red Tutu

The Usual Jenny

Reading a book in the window seat. Glass of water, carrots, cabbage and mince. I wrote this poem, if you can even call it that, in a restaurant at lunch time. This restaurant is cosy, small but always busy; a place for families, friends and young couples. Therefore, it was a surprise to watch as … Continue reading The Usual Jenny