Glitter Ghosts

she doesn’t fit into the same jeans

folded in the drawer in her room;

the ones with the scuffed knees

disclosing dirty bones.

She’s reached for the same clothes

in the same closet

where the monster feared most

made instruments from hangers

and hid teeth in her pockets.

Except there is no monster

but skeletons, rotten reminders

hidden carefully between coats

ugly truth in shoe-boxes

ghosts that haven’t outgrown her


like the man she turned down

or the flowers that never bloomed.

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I am.

I am but space a cluster of mess; my skin full of chemicals that has let hurricanes in and planets and scars like plastered wax stuck to my chest. I am the white sclera the peeling film of tired eyes; I am sinew of bones that make up home with feelings reaching from the praline …

Continue reading I am.


Image result for nightclub blurry lights
A collaborative piece written by me and the beautifully talented Esme Brown who you can find over at:

Glitter Ghosts

These are crystallised visions

Dancing too close.

Instruments of the deep blue;

Fish hook kisses,

Raging rip-tide tongues.

These lights are an alien sky

Faces fish-eyed,

Scoop music or

Struggling spirits –

Slipping, yolky through florescent fingers –

Into steel-basin chests.

Phosphorous, unbound waves take us

Swaying in its swell of salt.

If we vomit tonight,

It’ll be jellyfish

Blubbery and full of washed up wishes.

Hips swing in rings of infinity

The Steady, instinctual pattern of bees

“Honey” They mouth;

Choked women’s voices

All those messages bottle-necked,

Annexed in Adams apples.

Tribal painted we chant

A song unknown to us

Possessed by the drums and

Something sacrificial,

Something ungendered and primal-

Angels with

Sequined wings exposed

To hungry hands.

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