Category poetry

Despite My Best Efforts, I Am Real: A Story

Time shifts. Its the air, something about the air moves. Alters. You dont see it, exactly, but you know it. In your throat, where the anxiety lives. Or in your chest, where the hummingbird lives. You are walking through your kitchen door. Before you reach the steps which will take you back to your desk […]

A Letter/A Poem.

Look at you kid, growing old so young.
You didnt know where the cracks were
Or where the sidewalks would end
You used to paint in marble
And these polaroids were once new…

Untitled: A Poem

I played an old song and fell to the ground
And when I looked up again expecting to drown
My eyes stayed dry and my pulse stayed steady
And my feelings for him were lost in the sound

Word Hermit

Let the artists teach you how to fight
Let your Fountain pen drip ink
Like a Lighthouse drips light

And: A Poem.

And she dropped the word ‘and’ like a honey-covered bomb
But still ended her novel in a full stop
For every sentence has to stop
For even Ulysses had to stop –

Mercado de Las Brujas

There are lines
In the faces of the women
Like ancient tree roots
Grown from the shadows of old sorrows.

Do you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?

I majored in escapism and self loathing I doused myself in make up and called it armour Pledged my allegiance to this instagram nation And told myself I could embrace alienation But my nails were digging graves into the palms of my hands   I learned that my body was a battleground My greatest ally […]

Bust Outta Babylon

Beat the drum of my beating brain Stop my eyes from closing again Theres too many places I gotta see And too many ways to rediscover me I’ve got wind at my heels And wings in my mind And I’m floating and fighting against the tides of time I hear the horizon call In a […]

July, 2016: A Poem.

This is not a poem and I am not a poet
I confuse these sunsets, these end of day, dusky grey, sunsets
With the drum and the sum of the sun itself
But sit here at dusk, collecting dust,
And tell yourself gently with your crying might, that a dying light
Does not a day make