Don't ever let them hate on your body for it is a striking mosaic of bones a relic of desire, peppered with nostalgia- wiggling hips like a dog bounding from the riverbed. Your belly button is deep and soft a likeness to a shellfish- your skin is fuzzy and uncharted and your fungus white …

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Under photos of Zaragoza and them her hands grind Moroccan tea the girl- with her fences built high belly button pierced, her face smelling of honey and green tea. She believes in energy and angels in sweet lavender and Eucalyptus but not in you. She’s been to Cambodia and back in her head- a pilgrimage …

Continue reading Remembering.


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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  Her soul is June's yellow telling mine about the sun fingers, white Galanthus bulbs turning me to Midas Gold. Her voice is like a naked mist danger concealed in an Alchemist's kiss her eyes are but dichroic glass so sickly sweet and opportune.