Category: Uncategorized

“Don’t let the ice cycles fall on you, it will hurt.” my mother yells as they fall from the shingles in the cold and frosty winter weather.

That memory plays in my mind like a broken record. Here I sit holding an ice cycle just as sharp as the ones That I used to stick my tongue to just for fun and games. Except I’m not playing no games and I’m not having no fun. These cycles are not falling from above and my mother’s warning is almost but a faint whisper in the back of my mind.

Your color such a beautiful clear almost light blue that blends with the sky above shining like the melted crystal I have in this cycle. Except my tongue doesn’t stick to this one and I can’t feel it’s frost on my finger tips.

every one of you so unique in its own way, beautiful as a sight to behold in the December morning air. Yet as I’m getting older it’s becoming true that the beauty in your design becomes the same with the color change I see when you fall Onto me while the glass pane in front of me stops your fresh winter air from healing my lungs.

My mother’s warning is silenced as the tip of the ice cycle Peirces my skin like the warm cup of cocoa I once held when I came Inside after admiring your beautiful glacial cycles for the last time. Here I sit as the last memory I have of u Fades as slow as the warm icy liquid I’ve come to know takes hold of my mind and soul as it races its way through my veins all because I didn’t listen to mother and I let the ice cycles fall straight into me.

As a Young girl I used to admire your Wonderous glacial Beauty from afar But it was never enough so I let you fall onto me.

And mother I promise you, these ones don’t hurt they scare the hurt away.. ❄

I sit in St Mary’s Aldermar Church
It’s bustling with remote workers, businesspeople and students.
They have all gathered
to work and study and sip coffee
within a church.

I think back to my childhood
I was raised roman catholic
But my sexuality confused my relationship with god
A whole other tale to get into
I’m not ready to open that door now
I simply want to watch

It’s complete with a café, a souvlaki bar and burrito station
What world have I walked into?
I didn’t know –
Churches could be multi-purpose
Not to this extent

In my church growing up, there was only the alters, pews and aisle
A few leaflets by the door, next to the holy water
And baskets of straw crosses, only on ash Wednesday
It was so simple, so pure, yet this church is apparently a place
Where worshippers gather too?

I am in one of the pews
There’s a coffee table within it
I can order a latte
And converse with the saints
All at once

I watch the aisle and think of my confirmation
When my faith was a part of my life
I watch and see myself as a teenager
In my dress with flowers in my hand
Walking up to take the holy communion from father willam

In my neighbouring pew an interview is occurring
A girl demonstrates her theories of corporate escalations
Whilst the interviewers jot down notes and
Stare at her half blankly

The chains of love
Need never be
It isn’t love
If it isn’t free

(Anonymously Written for Sting, Homage To His “Dream of the Blue Turtles”)

I walk in an agonized spiral
I’m brooding for something insane
The spectres of living are with me
They chide me and ride me to pain.

Through windows the city breathes nightsong
And still it seems eons away
The Lights of the Dark are well living
And I should want to belong to their rays.

But still I’m alone
Inside this great home.

The curtain is blazing with starlight
The night speaks of wanting for day
The tantrum of faraway storm-burst
Seeks my ear as its sub-sonic prey.

Yes I stand in this house, a loner
The rooms wrap around me in vain.
There’s no one I’d care to ring-up, now
No comfort to find for my brain.

In colour of dawn comes the longing
The end of the night and its song.
Another goodbye and removal
With tea standing hot into long.

My favorite thing about being
with my loved ones is that
I can enjoy the here and now
without having any worries.

Your metal-infused jaws make impossible cuts possible.
I have felt the wrath of a stinging insect,
how can something so small so easily slice or puncture?

But we are slashing body parts,
both infused with metals, zinc and manganese.

We pry apart already open mouths
examine the teeth, malformed lines
cutting edges of delicate skin, now red.
A single tooth spit up. Much thinner.

Heartache is typically found in the river canyons of the mouth
We never knew how sharp tools could be

But we learned, together.

I was hunting for sport tonight, my lips pulled
Back to bare my smile
Slim
Slick
Sultry
You could call me by my name but I’d prefer you
Don’t

Easy enough was the first boy I found at the mercy of my perfume
Charming was I? Telling you spells and mumbling the fables
Smoke and mirrors, trick tricks
Mindless manic my move ment
Had I caught a disease I’d have infected you
Senselessly

Against that brick wall, I shoved
Maiming your body; desires of blood that ebbed beneath
Mine for the slaughterhouse

Pinched my eyes shut when I felt you bend
Coiling around your bursting limbs!

Then you had ME

You felt like–him
Submission to his memory
Created his body with your thrown out parts
You don’t charm like him or engulf like him
But I’ll feed on you as if you were

I set off my own traps with my own burden

Weak frail hands
Falling into the pit of snakes and swallowing
The poison I was pushing into you
In love, with the body I made to be his

Then You FUCKING Spoke!

Ashes of my creation fell on my shoes
Melting off my charred flesh, burnt by my Dante
Nine? Be mine! I’m whining now, circles parlay!

Lost in your weak lasso as you drag me back
No use fighting with my bonfire
Your mark rests on my jugular for the following week
Stalking the plum tooth soaked maul, meek

Preyed on, I am
Pray have I, you’re him

I crave you, but I forgot
how to want. So I panic.

Distract myself like the days
I flirted death. Like the days
before I found the right
piece of myself to kill.

I yip and dance, shoot the moon,
pop the gum; snap the rubber band
secure around the wrist
once held down.

But the relief of it
Ah. The relief of it.

That toe dip and plunge into the Styx.
I bury into her hollow, into her swell.
Not dirt, nor ash, but a riptide wrapping
of desire of breath and thrum.

Your phantom limbs wired to pull
me out. Your laugh a shimmer

a piece of tackle— and I am caught.
You pull me in and again I forget
her. I forget everything,
every thing, but you.

Circle of life, circle of death;
there is a bird of prey circling overhead.
My spirit circles the drain, I’m drained,
How much more is there to take?
I am no longer taken with Life,
She leaves my eyes,
and underlines them with circles.

The bird of prey eyes me and dives me, pecks me to death!
Swoops and scoops my soul they stole in their talons,
Falcon rips it to shreds!
and delivers it tattered to their master: Death.