“There is a part of my mind that tells me to drink– Just a tiny little voice convinces me. Only my kids can stop me
Here’s an old poem wrote during High School _________________________________ If you do love me, then prove yourself. Impress me. Let this night float around us;
A little something that wouldn’t let me go to sleep last night until I had written it down. She writes with the blood in her
Another thought, another mood Another swing, and angry again. For nothing. People remain confused By me. It’s complicated, it twists ’round It misleads. I think
Rise, my siblings and my people and my friends. Take your hammers, your crowbars, and your fists and beat the mortar to dust beneath your
Ivy fingers keep coming back to me. In their gentle grasp life felt whole. Pieces held together firmer in their place. Twisting around my body
Flight used to only belong to you; soaring through the sky, the heavens were yours Now you’re not alone. The skies are crowded with human
It was such a beautiful Jay That flapped its wings and flew away. I miss it each and every night As I look up to
The Dark, they say, is the absence of light. My heart disagrees. Without light there is no colour and in The Dark that’s all I
The Raisin gathers sweat from my fingertips They are greasy now. The dead relative of the grapes in my ruck sack; excreting final fluids onto
There was once a lover with a violin Who rejoiced in playing on a trampoline. I asked him ‘Are you insane?’ He told me ‘
Existing in reflection a presence of vast emptiness. Are you waiting? Waiting in the sky of a timeless day and yet, still dancing upon
Mary, you have lied to the world Have you lied? Is the angel of your dream real Or; Was there too much wine at your
The passion filled by a longing embrace, The pain of your deepest mistakes, The heat rising from your every pore, I am Red. The aching
On the first day, They had made a sheep That was identical in every way. It was a huge genetics leap, The scientists would say.
Sitting in a train station; waiting for a train. The walls are white, the ground is cold and stone. The Sun shines, winter warm, outside.
pre-judged and pre-empted He goes mad, a bad; egg or so people think, his mind is made up, and outwards he goes for revenge. He
Snake on a sand dune, Slowly slithers sideways, down down down. The taciturn Snail, Has forayed too far, will not escape; the winter boot. A
Ground-scuttling thought thief with sharpened eyes and smoothened beak, carries its share within its gullet the spoils of those who speak. No sound is truly
If you fuss, I’ll flip mountains. When you crumble, I’ll muster courage. If you curse, I’ll stay courageous. When you snore, I’ll love you anyway.