A Letter To My Fifteen Year Old Self


It’s me, or rather, you, from the future. Put down the star trek fan fiction, we need to talk. I have good news and bad news.

The good news is, you having fuller lips won’t be as bad as you think. Sure, you get made fun of it for now, but in about ten years, it will be fashionable, and both men and women will pay tons of money for surgery and lip glosses that promise the plump pout you are currently embarrassed of. I mean, it will be favoured on white women over you, but it’s something.

Don’t bother fucking about with your eyebrows either, because it isn’t worth the effort. Thicker brows will be fashionable too, and let’s be real, you can’t handle pain, so waxing, plucking or threading really will never be an option for us. Now I’ve typed all that, I’m concerned that they may be out again. Luckily for you, you learn, over time, not to care anyway. They’re just eyebrows.

Onto some bad news, but with a hint of good news. You will never “grow into your nose”, and you won’t learn how to contour it away either. However, you will one day learn to accept that your face would completely change if it was different, and that is a reminder of your heritage, and you will realise the importance of keeping your past close to you, because it’s a lonely, fucked up world, and sometimes, all you will have is yourself, so it will be comforting to be able to remember where you came from. You are a concoction of so many different places and people, and that is something to be proud of, so don’t be ashamed that you look different, because that’s fine.

You’ve spent your whole life feeling like you didn’t fit in, and a lot of people around you contributed to that. A lot of kids picked on you, and called you weird or ugly. Some were even racist, which is fucked up and you’ll probably still think about it for a long time, but don’t hold onto your anger for them. It doesn’t help you, and it won’t change them. You are responsible for you. You can’t make everyone good. You survived, and that’s all that matters. Maybe they grew up to be better people by themselves, maybe they didn’t, I don’t know, because I’m busy doing my own thing, but I wish I (or you), had learned to do that sooner.

2017, which is where I am now, is going to be weird as fuck, and you should prepare for that as best you can. You’ve seen some pretty weird and fucked up things already, so I wish I didn’t have to tell you it gets worse, but I do, and I’m sorry about that. It turns out you were right about Tony Blair, but you were wrong about Kevin Spacey. You were very, very wrong about Kevin Spacey. You will discover that sometimes, evil can be hidden by nice things, and nice gestures, and a nice face, and you will never stop being astounded and disgusted by it. You will never really learn to be aloof or unsurprised by supposedly good people turning out to be awful, but maybe that’s a good thing. You were also wrong about Seamus Heaney, but he isn’t a sex offender like Kevin Spacey (probably should have mentioned that in more detail earlier, sorry), he’s just a better writer than your jealous teenage self was willing to acknowledge, and at some point, you will find it within yourself to admit that you only dislike him because he has a nobel prize, and you don’t (yet). There is still time for you, and you don’t have to dislike people because they have achieved things you haven’t, especially when you are literally still in school, and haven’t even finished your exams. He’s 53 years older than you, so it is to be expected that he will achieve things you want, before you do. Give yourself a chance to grow, and you’ll do all those things too. With this in mind, you can also stop hating about 45% of celebrities and public figures that you don’t like, because the same thing applies. You have plenty of time to collect trophies, sign books and perform.

On the bright side, there will be a new Star Trek series, with a black female lead, and a better chance of not being cancelled like enterprise, but to enjoy that, you first have to endure a Tory government, leaving the European Union, and an absolute bastard being the president of the US.

I probably should have done those one at a time, but it’s important that you understand something. Many of those things happened because of voter apathy, and I know that right now, you’re super hype for politics and desperate to vote, but in about three years, that enthusiasm will die, and one man is responsible. When you were (or are) eighteen, you will vote for the liberal democrats, because Nick Clegg makes a lot of promises. Nick Clegg will then form a coalition with the conservatives and the effects will be devastating to the country, and to you too. It will break your heart. You will lose complete faith in politicians, and it will take a long time to get it back. You get your groove back after seeing Nicola Sturgeon in a debate during the 2015 election, and will reluctantly return to the Labour roots you were raised on, because it’s the closest thing to the SNP in England (I mean, it isn’t really, but it’s the best you can do), so if we ever get a chance to do 2010 again, save yourself some heartache and just vote labour or green. It doesn’t actually matter how you vote really, in the bigger picture, because you’re registered to vote in a safe Tory seat, but it might make you personally feel better. The moral of that story is, people might let you down, specifically politicians, but not all of them are the same and many of them do want to help. Don’t give up and definitely use your vote, and encourage others to do the same, no matter how annoying it makes you feel, because people not voting led to most of 2017.

Speaking of men in 2010 who will break your heart, there will be a man that you meet on a tube train, on New Year’s Eve, he will make lots of promises and tell you so many nice things, but he will ruin your life for about two years, and to be completely honest, you’ll still be slightly broken in 2017, and maybe further on, I don’t know yet, so again, if we get the chance to do 2010 again, don’t talk to anyone on the tube. It’s frowned on anyway, regardless of how Northern your upbringing was. Keep your mouth shut and read a book in uncomfortable silence, like everyone else.

Back to how fucked up 2017 is. You will be devastated by the result of the EU referendum, and will briefly consider desperately attempting to get Spanish citizenship and leaving the UK forever. I don’t know if the UK will actually leave now, because it’s currently a bit of a clusterfuck, but whatever happens, you will be okay, and the UK isn’t so bad (at least, some parts of it, anyway). Please remember to speak English in public at all times, for your own safety, because some people will go nuts and be unrelentingly xenophobic after the referendum, but keep to yourself, and don’t talk to strangers, especially in Spanish, and you’ll probably be fine. You will have to stop pretending not to speak English to avoid gross men, as this could get you into way more trouble than before, and you may feel like this place isn’t your home anymore, but there are places where you will still feel like you belong, so hold onto that.

Donald Trump becomes president. This doesn’t directly effect you all that much, but you will hate it all the same. For a while, you will feel there is no good left in the world, but there is, I promise. You just have to look harder to find it, these days. Oh, and you will later discover that he, like many people in 2017, is the absolute fucking worst, and you will no longer feel guilty about your angry blog posts about him taking up space at Wrestlemania.

You won’t be a Broadway star, like you wanted, not in 2017 anyway, but weirdly enough, Broadway World, a website where you spent most of your childhood, writes an article about one of your books this year, so that’s a nice consolation prize. You will go to university, though, like you wanted, and you’ll be a writer, which you’re just getting interested in now as I remember. You also dip back into music, and a song you compose gets thousands of streams on Spotify. I’m aware you don’t know what that means yet, or what Spotify is, but basically, thousands of people hear your music, and that’s pretty fucking cool. It’s like music downloads, except you will get way less money in royalties, so we aren’t exactly living fancy yet, but I’m working on it.

You are currently sad. I remember it so well, and I wish I could tell you that everything magically gets better, but it doesn’t. You’ll later be diagnosed with depression, and you’ll be resistant as fuck to it, because you’re used to helping the people around you with their own stuff, and it will be hard to accept that you need help to, but take it, because it doesn’t make you weak.

Depression isn’t your only problem. I know this is all pretty bleak, and I’ll stick more goodness in this soon, but I’m just writing it as it comes. You will go through many things that will make you question who you are, and will make you feel like life isn’t worth it, this will of course not be helped by the depression you are not yet currently aware that you have, but even without depression, it’s a lot to go through. You survive. That’s all I can promise. I can’t tell you it won’t hurt, but I can tell you that you survive.

Your handwriting never gets any better, by the way, but you have a very impressive typing speed, so stop worrying about that. You will barely write by hand once you leave sixth form anyway, and you will have the convenient excuse of never writing by hand, because you want to save the planet from deforestation. To be real, though, I think people are aware that you’re just really bad at writing by hand, but many people you meet are too polite to say so.

Right now, you think you’re very smart and mature, because you listen to radio 4, and read the Guardian, but you still have lots to learn, and realistically, you’re a very young fifteen, at least emotionally. I really wish we got a second shot at 2010, or any of the years actually, because there is so much we could do differently. There is so much you didn’t know, and so much that I can’t protect you from, that still haunts me to this day, but realistically, I can’t. We can’t. All that we can do is be thankful that we made it this far, and keep going.

Your survival is all that matters. Things will be tough. Things will be devastating. You will get your heart broken (no bones though, so we still hold that record), you will be disappointed, you will feel like a failure, but you will live on and you will feel joy, and passion, and pride, and you will survive.

Whatever happens, keep fucking going. You may not get exactly what you want, and things might feel hopeless some days, but you survive, and that’s all you can do sometimes.

As I write this right now, you are happyish. Things are okay. You’re currently waiting for your new music video to process through editing software, and trying to pass the time, by saying hello to the girl you once were. You had a decent night of sleep last night, despite being caught in traffic for ages. You look a bit of a mess because you didn’t put on make up this morning, but you’re still cute, and most importantly, you are still fucking here.


J x

PS. You don’t learn to swear less, and around 2012, you stop putting it on your new year’s resolution list, because it just isn’t fucking realistic. Sorry.

Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Order “The Things We Did Last Summer” here

Order “Home Wrecker” here

Listen to”Past Preston” here

Watch the “Drowning In Us” trailer here

Are You Afraid?
Summer Of Love

Jim Chapman’s “147 Things” Review
How I wrote “Depression Is Not Real?” from Home Wrecker
It’s Time To Talk About EVE (Because Many People In The Wrestling Industry Won’t).

Ask Jen


Love Lessons

His brow furrowed,

as his eyes,

that had seen and collected,

the wonders of the world,

fell to the floor.

He asked me,

why I wanted him.




I took the hands,

that had spent more nights,

alive and exploring,

than I had had days on the earth.

I told him,

that I wanted someone,

who knew how to love me.




He has loved me,

with tenderness,

with curiosity,

with ferocious passion,

that he thought he had lost,

and I know,

nobody else could love me,

the way he taught me I deserve.

Order “Stormy Weather” here

Order “Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls” here

Summer Of Love
Baby Steps

Let’s Go To The Movies
An Open Letter To Miranda Larbi, In Relation To Unicorns

Thought Provoking Stories In Your Horror Movies? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think!

Ask Jen

Stormy Weather

Hola amigos!

I hope you are coping with this heatwave better than I am…

I just wanted to check in and let you know about a few updates.

Firstly, you can now preorder my upcoming release here and it will be released on the 30th of June.

Secondly, if you sign up to my Patreon, you’ll receive a free ebook copy on the 30th of June.

Thirdly, you can now enter my tumblr giveaway by clicking here.


J x

Let’s Go To The Movies

Hola Amigos!

As usual, I’ve been spending copious amounts of time watching simulated murder on a huge screen, while eating popcorn, like the scumbag that I am, and I’m here to let you know what I’ve thought. Yes, this is exactly like THAT League Of Gentlemen sketch.

Contains Spoilers for The Belko Experiment and Raw.

Continue reading

Dating, and new writing

Hola amigos,

I hope you’ve been well. I’ve been very busy, going on quite a few dates… with myself. I’ve been single for a while, to be honest, I’d like to be for a bit longer, but I missed things like going to dinner, or seeing a movie, and initially, I thought it would be lonely to do it by myself, but actually, there are a lot of benefits.

For a start, I’m paying for everything myself, so there is no pressure to give anything back (financially or otherwise)for the drinks or the dinner, and I can also wear what I want without there being a sense of entitlement from someone else, because I’m the only one there!

I can also get an ice blast at the cinema, and nobody can tell me that adults shouldn’t have them, because I’m the only one there and I don’t care.

I’ve been on quite a few cinema trips lately, and rediscovered how enjoyable it can be just to sit, and be absorbed by the universe of someone else’s creation. I normally watch movies alone, but I’m big on multi tasking, so I’ll be writing while watching, which can be a little distracting. A major upside to watching a movie alone, and without distractions is that I can see whatever I want. I spent a lot of time when in relationships having to compromise, because most people aren’t interested in horror movies, and mentioning subtitles would send most of my exes running for the hills, so it’s nice to be able to watch things I’m actually interested in.

In other news, below is some new work I’ve finished. I hope you enjoy it!


J x

baby steps jennifer juan

No Idea Why



The Two I’s

Damien’s Lament

Baby Steps

Before You

Told You


White Cliffs Of Dover




No Idea Why

I looked up, back down.

I’m fascinated by the fear that frequents our moments together.

No idea why.

I took a step, silent, ran back.


I’m cornered by my curiosity, for the way that you could love me.

I’ve no idea why.

You shy away, just like me, though our hearts have done marathons.

One wrong move from a nervous mouth can ruin a good thing I suppose.

No idea why.



Kicks away the blankets,

still covered with the prints of her producers,

her days are caught in crying,

because she belongs to the songs she sold her soul for,

the melodies are mocking,

and though the crowds sustain her day to day,

she is only alive,

at the edge of death.



Anything to be with you.

I’ll go where the trail of your heart desires,

melting at my core,

on an endless exploration.

Anything to burn with you.

Show me the jaw of the jungle,

let me sleep in it’s swallow,

axed by the acid that awaits me.

I’m not afraid,

to die for our journey,

lost to your longing for the universe.

Anything to breathe with you.

Take me to the highest point,

to the ends of the earth,

and into the sun,

to burn up,

at the very thought of you.


The Two I’s 

My hands are dead,

done with drawing deeds we never did,

and my heart is hardened,

from hearing what it cannot have.

I’m saved by my sanity,

until it leaves,

through the same door she did,

then I’m helpless to myself.

She said I was intelligent,

until I was “insane”.

I’m insane enough to wait my life for her,

and intelligent enough to make it art.


Damien’s Lament

She’s sleeping.

I watch her toss and turn,

my stomach does the same.

I’m sure her eyelids are a work of art,

and her fingertips are fondant fancies,

french tips, fit for my lips.

Her face is lonely,

without my eyes to keep it company,

the wonder of her waking,

is worth the risk of arrest.


Baby Steps

She stumbles behind us,

running to keep up.

We need to lose her,

so we can lose ourselves.

Nobody knows,

I’m not even sure I do,

but maybe we’ll know,

alone at the lake,

learning to kiss,

and learning to cry.


Before You

I’ve given up on giving you everything I had.

I’m picking up the pieces that I put on display,

you never understood them,

and you wouldn’t take a step into my gallery.

I glue the girl back together,

though she fights the skirts you sneered at,

and the pink lip you said wasn’t to your taste.

I place it on her mouth,

to decorate the long howls,

and dress her in all she has left.

I still paint by your numbers,

they add up to fuck all,

I have more troubles,

than your approval,

but I seek it,

every second.

I’m busy rebuilding the girl you left behind,

and the girl she was,

before you.


Told You

I told you I’m a liar,

but you didn’t believe a word I said.

You told me I was the only one for you,

and I told you I wasn’t for anybody.

Just say it if you want to,

and maybe I’ll figure it out along the way.

Spell it out, say syllables,

because I never learned to read.

Love me if you want to,

I won’t think any less.

I don’t really think at all,

but maybe that could change.



She’s uneasy on her feet,

and harsh on the world.

Her head is in the past,

that stabs and stands above,

no matter where she runs.

Would you believe her,

if she said a heart,

was fighting,

under that freak in teal?


The White Cliffs Of Dover

I’m on a cliff,

and on the sea floor,

in a moment,

if I want it.

I don’t hear Vera,

or love, or laughter,

just waves and wind,

and the rushing of my stillness.

Erode me to the air,

or save me from myself,

right now, it doesn’t matter,

and neither does what led me here.



He pulls on my hair,

he pulls on my nerves.

He presses his lips to the straw in his hand,

and all over again, I’m envious of inanimate objects.

My heels removed,

I’m a girl again.

I am blushy, I am mushy,

and I’m disgusted by my desire for him.

He’s drinking again,

as I drink him in.

I’m euphoric, and pathetic,

and I know that he loves it.

He touches my heart,

my hands and my lashes.

The world has stopped,

and only he can make it start again.



Voted most likely

to steal your elderly husband,

in my high school yearbook,

‘Cause I’m a vampire for vintage,

and I need that stale sweet blood.

I need some seasoned love,

because tomorrow’s man,

doesn’t factor into my future.

I want a face and heart,

with character,

and an earth of experience,

to impact upon my sun.


Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl
Amor, Amor

Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs

“The Two I’s” from Baby Steps
“Baby Back There” from Ours

“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours

Thought Provoking Stories In Your Horror Movies? It’s More Likely Than You’d Think!
Get To Know Me 🙂

Things About Rings

Ask Jen

Thought Provoking stories in your horror movies? It’s more likely than you’d think!

I know, I know. I’m late with my Get Out thinkpiece, but to be fair, it was released later here in the UK, and also this isn’t so much a Get Out thinkpiece, as a plea for the real world to stop treating horror movies as the annoying little sibling who doesn’t deserve to sit at the grown up table. Let us begin.

I thought Get Out was phenomenal (please don’t ask me how many times I had to type that word to get rid of the dreaded red line, I am not the best speller..), and one of the best horror movies I’ve seen in 2017 so far. Daniel Kaluuya has always been an actor I’ve enjoyed watching, since I first saw him on BBC’s eclectic horror comedy series, Psychoville. He continued to impress over the years, and really gave a stellar showing in Get Out, as the hero, Chris. The writing was clever and engaging, and the entire film was a blood soaked joy to watch, which is exactly what I want in a horror film.


Daniel Kaluuya, star of Jordan Peele’s Get Out.

As a child of an interracial relationship, and a participant in a few (well, considering I’m literally a mixture of two races, I think, biologically speaking, any relationship I have will be interracial, but I’m being pedantic), I am well aware of not only how great they can be, but also the sobering difficulties that interracial couples can face, outside of their own loved up bubble. It isn’t just obvious prejudice, but subtle “well meaning” issues. Of course, someone threatening to burn your house down, or kill you for being in a relationship outside of your race is noticeable, but there are acts of prejudice that will sometimes fly under the radar, and this film expertly and fearlessly exposes racist microagressions and opens up discussion of the full scope of racism, including the well meaning allies who still, however accidental play a part in racism, and of course, the “I’m not racist, but…” crowd.

It achieves this without being patronising to those who may want to help break down barriers and use their privilege to help people, in a way that The Green Inferno, Eli Roth’s cannibal holocaust edge lord, try hard rip off tribute attempted to do, but didn’t quite manage. The message was much clearer, didn’t sound condescending, and the conspiracy theories were at least well explained, related to the topic at hand and not just yelled out by a caged hipster. That makes a lot more sense if you’ve seen The Green Inferno, and if you have a few hours to spare, it’s on amazon prime, and while a bit crap, it’s kind of a laugh, even if it’s just for how seriously it takes itself.

Get Out is by no means the first horror movie to confront real world issues, but it’s massive success has opened up potential new viewers to all the great things horror as a genre has to offer, including but not limited to “woke” horror (and by that I don’t mean Nightmare On Elm Street), and sent a clear message to the bigger studios that not only is horror worth investing in outside of October releases, but that mindless horror isn’t the only profitable option.

Horror is, in my opinion a great genre to explore and discuss the harsh realities of life, because is there really any more realistic a picture of humanity than one of humanity in peril? The truth of who we are and why we are that way is easily exposed under the threat of death, whether it’s from zombies, ghosts, cannibals, or your unfriendly neighbourhood racist.

Zombie movies, as overexposed as they might have been in recent years are a great example of privilege in action. Working class people are normally the first victims in the apocalypse, because, well, they’re at work, surrounded by people, some of which may be zombies, and they don’t have helicopters, huge cars or boats to get away from the carnage. I can tell you right now, the second Z Day comes, I will be one of the first to go. I don’t drive, I don’t have a cool method of escape, and it takes me at least two hours of commuting on public transport to get home of an evening. I’ll be eaten before I make it past Bluewater. Meanwhile, those richer than me will have better means of escaping. Whether they’ll be anything left to escape to at the end of the day is anyone’s guess, but they’ll have a better chance than me. Is this fair? No. Is it the way life currently is for me? Yes.


The Rezort, one of the most recent Zombie movies to shine a light on the true price of not being able to afford safety in a disaster.

This is of course reminiscent of real life natural disasters, in which money can go a long way to preserving your safety, while the underprivileged don’t have the resources to have safeguards in place, or any way to help themselves when disaster strikes. While zombies might be a fantasy, the fact that in a crisis, large parts of the world’s population will be fucked over because they are from a lower economical standing and don’t have access to things that will help them is not.

The recent debate over women’s rights to their own bodies has also been covered numerous times in horror. Classic film Rosemary’s Baby is a harrowing look at the lack of autonomy women hold over their bodies. Not only is Rosemary sexually assaulted by a demon, her husband casually lies and states that he had sex with her when she was unconscious, to cover the fact that she was sexually assaulted by a demonic presence. During her pregnancy, her concerns are silenced and she is eventually forced to mother the Antichrist.


One of the most iconic Mother’s in cinema history was the most unwilling.

While I’m not aware of cases of women being raped by demons, or forced to carry the Antichrist to full term, I am aware of cases of women being raped in the real world, and having their fears and concerns silenced, I am aware of women in the real world who are denied a choice on carrying a child to full term, and the fact that these realities are not just playing out on a screen, and are, in some sense real, should terrify us, but like many of the characters in Rosemary’s Baby, people will find ways to justify women being treated this way, or will just ignore it.

While many see Saw as a yearly money raising exercise for Lionsgate, the Saw series did contain a hard dose of reality along with it’s gore. There are people who think like John Kramer, and believe they have a right to play God because they are unhappy with people’s attitudes, there are corrupt police officers like Mark Hoffman who will use the power entrusted to them by their communities to commit crimes, and they’ll try and justify them too. There are people like Amanda Young, who are vulnerable, and can form great bonds with those that abuse them, whether it’s the one who enabled her drug habit, or the one who stuck a bear trap on her head and forced her to disembowel a man. These people may never see themselves as abusers, they may see themselves as saving their victim, but the reality is, Amanda Young was a victim of abuse, those that abused her, especially John Kramer insisted that it was her own fault. He insisted that he “fixed” her, he brainwashed her until she believed it. In the real world, this is called victim blaming, and while John suffered for it, many in the real world do not.


Amanda Young, one of the many abuse victims who was blamed by her abuser for her own trauma.

I could go on about the horrific but quite realistic aspects of the long and winding Saw saga, but I don’t have all the time in the world, and the fact is, it may have handled some of them in a clumsy manner, but the series confronts many of the world’s injustices, and tells the story of many oppressed people through it’s long and bloody journey.

I’ve barely scratched the surface, and horror is a genre full of excellent commentary on the state of humanity, and what complacency to the issues of your fellow man can bring you, and while it is unfortunate that a lot of it is written off due to the storytelling devices used, it is my hope that in the future, horror will be taken as seriously as other genres, and the messages it contains will be given as much attention as other genres.


J x

Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl
Amor, Amor

Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs

“The Two I’s” from Baby Steps
“Baby Back There” from Ours

“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours

Get To Know Me 🙂
Things About Rings

My 2017 Goals

Ask Jen

Get To Know Me :)

Hola amigos,

Today, I’m going to be doing the “Get To Know Me” tag, which I saw being done here. Hope you enjoy finding out a little bit more about me!


J x


What is your middle name?: Louise, my mum has the same middle name, interestingly enough.

What was favorite subject at school?: Drama and English Language, because I loved to create characters and cool backstories for them.

What is your favorite drink?: Strawberry ribena.

What is your favorite song at the moment?: Kokomo By The Beach Boys is my favourite song ever, no matter when you ask me, it is always that.

What is your favorite food?: I think about Yorkshire Puddings every single day. If I could eat them every day, I’d be the happiest person alive.

What is the last thing you bought?: I got a bottle of Sunny D this morning.

Favorite book of all time?: Forever by Judy Blume. I think Judy Blume is such an outstanding writer, and it’s a shame that a lot of people disregard her as “just a children’s author” because firstly, children’s authors are just as valid as any other kind of writer, and secondly, Blume’s books can be enjoyed at any age because she is amazing.

Favorite Color?: Purple and Pink.

Do you have any pets?: No. I’d like to have a pet, but I don’t think I’d have time to give it the proper love and care it would need, so I won’t for now.

Favorite Perfume?: Forever by Mariah Carey. That’s also my favourite song by her.

Favorite Holiday?: I actually don’t like going on holiday because I get stressed about all the things at home so I can’t enjoy it at all.

Are you married?: No, and I doubt I ever will be because I’m the actual worst.

Have you ever been out of the country, if so how many times?: Yes to Spain, but Brexit is coming up, so I guess I’ll just be staying here and hoping Europe forgives me.

Do you speak any other language?: English, and Spanish, and I’m learning Welsh.

How many siblings do you have?: Two brothers and one sister.

What is your favorite shop?: Superdrug, because I like how much cool stuff is there, and that they still occasionally play Europop on the radio.

Favorite restaurant?: You all know this was coming… Nando’s!

When was the last time you cried?: This morning. I watched the MAC Viva Glam episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race, and when Ongina cried, I cried, but I didn’t have the weird vaseline filter lighting to keep me looking cute…

Favorite Blog?: Jess! Jess is a wonderful person and her blog is both beautiful and informative.

Favorite Movie?: Back To The Future Part One, Battle Royale, All The Boys Love Mandy Lane, The Big Sleep, Selena, La Bamba and Ringu.

Favorite TV shows?: The Thick Of It, Star Trek Voyager, Bates Motel and Jane The Virgin.

PC or Mac?: PC, because I find Macs confusing.

What phone do you have?: iPhone 6S in rose gold.

How tall are you?: 5″11

Can you cook?: Yes, but I can only cook the five or six meals I actually like, so if you’re hoping for something fun and interesting, I’m not the girl to call.

Amor, Amor
Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs

What Do Little Girls Dream Of?

“Baby Back There” from Ours
“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours

Things About Rings
Tis The Season To Be Bad At Wrapping Presents🙂
Lipsticks I Love

Ask Jen

Lipsticks I Love


Hola amigos!

I’ve previously mentioned a little bit of inexperience with make up, but I’m slowly (very slowly) figuring it out, and I’m having a lot of fun. My favourite kind of products are lip products, and so today, I thought I’d share some of my favourite lipsticks with you.


I’m pretty sure everyone is aware of the Kylie Cosmetics brand at this point, and as cute as they all looked, Exposed was the first of Kylie’s products that I really felt drawn to, enough to deal with the hell of customs. It wasn’t the actual charge that was the issue (£8 if you’re wondering) but the fact I had to go to the sorting office, which is on the other side of town to the post office, and up a massive hill. The struggle was real. However, it was worth it.

The lip liner was so smooth and applied so well. I’ve not got much experience with lip liners (or anything, as you know) but it was so easy to use. The scent of the liquid lipstick was divine. It was so sweet, and reminded me of baking cupcakes with my mum, and that’s always a good thing. If Kylie Jenner ever goes into fragrances, I’ll be ready to order. The liquid lipstick felt good on my lips, and was, like the liner, very easy to apply. I regret not buying the gloss at the time, but there is always next time.



I always liked the idea of metallic lips, but I never thought I could pull it off. Luckily for me, 2016 has been a long year of “The world appears to be imploding on itself and ending, so girl, wear whatever the hell you want.” so I just went with it. I had heard a lot of great things about Colourpop, and Diva Approved were having a sale on Colourpop products, so I decided to go for it and ordered Salt.

I knew if I was going to go metallic, it had to be gold, because as I mentioned in a previous blog, gold is kinda my thing. When I received it, I was a bit nervous, but within minutes, I didn’t care, because I felt like an Academy Award statue. I was glitzy, glamorous, and oh so fabulous. While it can look great with a gloss, it isn’t really required, because it has plenty of shimmer of it’s own, and is very moisturising, so no dry lips!


My love for Selena Quintanilla Perez is endless. Honestly. There is so much about her to love. Her voice, how she performed, her personality, her kindness and love to her fans, and of course, her effortless but flawless style. Selena was a beauty and fashion icon in her lifetime, with people emulating her looks, and flocking to her Texas boutiques to get some of that Selena style, so it was unsurprising when MAC cosmetics decided to honour the legendary entertainer with her own make up line.

Amor Prohibido was my favourite shade (and is also one of my favourite songs) because the colour is gorgeous, and it feels so good on the lips. It’s something that doesn’t really require too much prep work, which is helpful for someone like me, and the colour lasts a lot longer than I expected, considering how little effort I have to put in to wear it. The packaging is SO Selena, and while the release was a bit frustrating (I think MAC didn’t quite prepare for how many fans Selena still has around the world), I think the line is a great addition to her legacy, and the lipstick is just beautiful.

As they say, anything for Selenas.


As mentioned, I’d heard a lot of good things about Colourpop, and they recently had free international shipping, so of course, as a woman who loves lip products with sensible spending habits, I got out my bank card and went to work. I got one of the Hello Kitty lip glosses, because I love anything cute, especially Hello Kitty, and I also got Screenshot.

Screenshot felt like I was wearing a lip gloss, but looked like I was wearing a lipstick, and you can’t really ask for more than that. It was comfortable, but still retained the desired look.

It contains a little less preparation than a matte lipstick, which is useful for me, as I’m not too good at sitting still and working on that. The colour is long lasting, and looks lovely.


In addition to Colourpop’s Salt, I also picked up the MUA Luxe Glint metallic to try out. I was a little more nervous about this one (this is becoming a theme) because it was darker than most lipsticks I use. However, at the time I got it, Halloween was coming up, so I was like “if it looks horrible on me, I can just say I was getting in the Halloween spirit”. Ha, Halloween spirit.

Anyway. As it all turned out, the upcoming dystopia kind of took the edge off, and I thought to myself “It doesn’t look bad, it just looks different.” I’ve come to realise that I don’t think colours can look bad, they are just different to what you are used to, so you can really wear whatever you want, and it will probably be fine. I soon got used to the colour, and actually found it quite empowering, and it’s become something I wear regularly.

I hope you enjoyed this post, what are some of your favourite lipsticks?


J x

Enemy Of The State
Boo, Bitch
Sincerely, Jennifer x

“Baby Back There” from Ours
“Window Shop” from Ours

“Beach Walk” from Ours

You Don’t Have To Be Alone
The Road To Halloween Continues
Jen’s Spooky Soundtrack

Ask Jen

The Road To Halloween continues…

Halloween is getting closer, and my favourite thing to do on the road to Halloween is to dim the lights and watch something frightening, in preparation for what should be the most frightening day of the year.

Gone are the days of me having to sort through my DVD collection (and previously VHS collection) to find something frightening, because Netflix has it covered, and they even have things organised by genre, which is already a step above my DVD collection (and yes, previously VHS collection).

I have already watched quite a few movies, so will include some of the best, and some of the worst on Netflix, to give you my thoughts.

This post may contain spoilers for the following movies:

February (The Blackcoat’s Daughter) (2015)

The Presence (2014)

#Horror (2015)

The Green Inferno (2013)

Continue reading

Moving On

If I’m half asleep,
my pillows feel like your doughy chest,
that could have felt firmer,
had you smashed the gym,
instead of my sister.
That was petty.
I’m sorry.
I know.

You know,
it would be easier if you were dead,
no offence.
At least then I could pretend,
you meant to call, but couldn’t.
You’re sorry.
I Know.

You know,
by the way,
day by day, it gets easier.
I’ve forgotten who you were,
and sculpted a softer, safer you,
that I miss more,
than I ever loved your reality.
You know?

You know.

Darling Dawn

El Hombre Y Su Flor

“Window Shop” from Ours
“Beach Walk” from Ours

British Fashion Start Up Awards Nominations 
Your body, and the hopefully happy adventures you can have
I am the worst, but…

Ask Jen

New poems :)

Hola Amigos,

Below are a few things I’ve written lately, as well as some old stuff I updated and adapted so that it may see the light of day.

It was really interesting to look through some older stuff, and see what kind of things I was writing, and to remember all the over dramatic thoughts and feelings that often accompanied my writing process back then. Things are a lot more relaxed now. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m more mature in how I handle emotions, or if it’s because I’ve become apathetic and numb with old age, but either way, it’s a lot less of an editing headache. Angsty teen Jen was a pain in the ass.

I really hope you like them!


J x


Alliterated Aspiration

Never needed nothing,
except everything.
On one objective,
eyes ether,
burned by buying basic boys.
Underwhelming undertones,
shallow senses, shadowed sensuality.
I invest in intermittent intimidation,
here hides heaven,
damnation delayed.


Dreaming In Diamonds

Baby, I won’t tire of your tired face.
I’ll wait,
dreaming in diamonds,
for the eventual “I suppose, I do.”
I play you my K Pop playlist,
because I know it makes no sense to you,
just like this love makes no sense to you,
but that face does more than jewels can do.
Won’t you wait?
Dreaming in desperation,
for the eventual “Of course, I do.”


Insatiable, Incurable, Inescapable

I picked my poison,
higher than my heels,
drank you down.
So nice, no spice.
Oh darling, you swam to my veins.
Insatiable, insatiable you.

I surrendered to your seductive swarm,
and a label, pastel pink,
drag me down.
Sin ti, who me?
Oh darling, where’s your antidote?
Incurable, Incurable you.

I live for every lasting look,
just as I’m sure you intended,
hunt me down.
Will you? Won’t you?
Oh darling, there’s no need to run, now.
Inescapable, inescapable you.


Tears On My Pillow

There were no tears on my pillow,
for all you left were purple paintings,
tinged with the darkest sky,
on the legs you said you loved,
that stayed covered all summer long,
housing your latest exhibit.
My heart was the least of my worries,
but, oh, how she worried,
that the rest of me wouldn’t survive.
You’re not my past,
or so I pretend,
I wallpaper my woes,
now I’ve escaped being your canvas.


What I Did For Hate

I can regret what I did for hate,
but it’s not my style,
and that’s all I have left.
You follow,
a dead dame’s rep in your wake.
This is some so legit shit,
except I’ve already gone Gaga,
and there is nothing in your lips,
but the sob story you stand on.
I do business like a man,
and you’re still bawling like a baby.
You whine, and dine,
on the same narcissistic narrative,
drown yourself at the river you wrote,
waiting on the ocean floor,
for the applause you said you didn’t need.


Radio Therapy

If you have to be gone,
then keep warm,
because I’m tortured by your sickness.
If I can’t have one last kiss,
then guard the ones you give,
and keep them from the likes of me.
My love,
you have to roam the world,
because like me, it will always miss you.
Paint the town red,
just like your lips were,
when I’d kiss you.
God, I miss you.
Shop when you’re hungry,
dance when you’re happy,
and live like I never broke your heart.
Betsy Brye’s on the radio,
and you’re on my mind,
as always.
When she gets through this number,
you’ll still be through with me,
I want you so.


Dying And Destroying

I kiss your rosy wrists,
their icy touch burns and blisters.
Your lungs lie still,
quite content with silence,
so stuck on stillness.
Open eyes, look past me,
the whole world,
lost in your lens,
the whole world,
draining as the blood drains from your face,
and I start to forget the world.
There is no world,
it is slipping,
with no “wet floor” sign.
Each breath without you,
sends another piece of planet stumbling.
Breathe again,
so I can breathe without dying and destroying.


Further Astronomy

He told me,
he didn’t like me,
but he thought he’d try,
and see if he could stand me.
He insisted on us kissing,
despite his demands that I not read into it,
it was hard to do anything but.
Kissing is a complicated language,
only for the lips of lovers,
different dialects for different couples,
so we didn’t understand each other a bit.


Darling Dawn

As darling Dawn is dragged,
back to the foot of the sky,
life breaks in,
strips the playful from my planet,
until I crash land into a rigid reality.
I’m not playing astronauts anymore.
The shadows of solitude,
stalk from their hiding spots,
surround me,
singing of my surrender,
before I have even been brave enough to speak.
I will be brave.
A deep, dangerous breath,
I have inhaled intuition,
I’m built stronger than my enemies.
Under the moonlight,
I will duel with the darkness of doubt,
until Darling Dawn arrives once more,
his arms around my waist, and a kiss upon my cheek.
His honey hello in my ear, and the words I longed for.
“Good girl.”


Panda Princess

When we fight,
my old face washes off in the storm,
leaving a panda princess.
When silent, you make sense,
I don’t understand your spoken nonsense.
In the dark of early morning,
when shadows play,
let me play on your mind.
I’ll lay kisses on your vocabulary,
and force you to be sweeter in the morning.


Anything But This

The trigger’s in your complex cortex,
and you’ve never won a game of roulette.
Callous chemistry, the house always wins.
Don’t play this round.
I know a good ice cream place,
the casino never was your scene.
Movies, drag shows, home, the beach.
Just anywhere but here, and now, and this.
Anything but this.
Let’s go see the Golden Gate,
but let us stay in the middle.
We can walk down any road,
we can soar like seagulls,
while we’re still grounded.
We never went to see some art together.
You know I won’t care,
but why not try?
There’s so much left to see,
even though your eyes say “No” today.
I’ll plead with them,
as I plead with you,
to give yourself another chance.
Just anything but this.
You know you’ll miss this town,
and you’ll miss the way that I miss you.
Can’t we get another round,
I promise I won’t touch a drop.
I promise,
I promise whatever it takes.
Just anything but this.
I know we’ve seen a million days,
but let’s see one more together,
and then another.
I know I’m selfish,
but, whatever you want.
Just anything, but this.


On the town

Everybody’s shaking hands,
blinded by glare of their finger flare.
A thousand angels,
in outfits I’ll never understand.
Towering fashion,
oh baby,
it’s so high.
There’s a man on the ivory,
oh that boy thinks he’s Mr Joel.
Nobody watches, so nobody would know,
but I’ve got on eye on the instrument,
and one on a drink I can’t afford,
and I can see he’s almost there.


Discovered Among The Weeds

I have been the roses you presented her with,
her birthday lay at the back of your one track mind.
My eyes made friends with the invaded floor,
as you moved me in,
and threw her out.
Smoke was her perfume,
her eyes unlike mine,
sat atop the feet of crows,
and the lines you’d crossed.
She went mad,
new lines,
made of clear ink adorned her face,
as I was put in a vase of icy water.
Maybe, you were born on a stormy day, to be my umbrella.
Maybe, you learnt to walk in my direction, to be my map.
Maybe you awoke this morning to awaken me, to be my alarm.
Maybe you drowned your old life, to be my watering can.
Maybe you will drown me one day, to sprinkle yourself over somebody else.



She saunters,
sensual smiles.
Someday, she’ll speak.
Slow, slinking speech.

She sips something,
soft souls sit,
salivating so she knows,
she seduced someone.

so suited to “S”.
She shines.


Darling Dawn

El Hombre Y Su Flor

“Window Shop” from Ours
“Beach Walk” from Ours

British Fashion Start Up Awards Nominations 
Your body, and the hopefully happy adventures you can have
I am the worst, but…

Ask Jen


British Fashion Start Up Awards Nominations

Hola amigos!

Last Saturday, I was invited to attend the nominations party for the British Fashion Start Up Awards, hosted by FASHIONbasecamp, who have been making waves across the fashion industry with their game changing mentoring programme for new brands. I’m not the most informed about fashion, that much is obvious by the fact I wear shirts as jackets and still wear dungarees as if that is normal for a woman in her early twenties (I may however be wrong about this and be actually quite stylish, if so, do let me know), however, everyone can enjoy getting to peek inside the buzzing world of fashion, whether they are educated on the matter or not, and I certainly did.

Upon arrival at The Piano Bar, an intimate and exclusive Soho gem, a tranquil vibe filled the air. The walls held musical icons, and, as you might expect, there was a fitting soundtrack of gorgeous piano arrangements as we awaited the nominations, as well as performances by The Tall Poppies and Rosa.

Five start up brands were announced to have made it through the first round of the competition, with further finalists to be announced in October, and the competition concluding at November’s London Fashion Startup Expo, where entrants will have the chance to showcase their brand, and really make an impression.

Stacey Chan was the first nominee, a brand specialising in luxury handbags, that are designed in London and made in Italy.

Little Wardrobe was the second, a brand specialising in luxury children’s wear, ensuring that the little ones can be just as stylish as the grown ups.

Kites and Bites was the third, a contemporary brand, taking inspiration from diversity and wanderlust.

Lily & Carter was the fourth, a brand offering timeless pieces in an effort to combat fast fashion, and give a wardrobe that can last a lifetime.

Maison De Choup was the final brand nominated in this round, with a clear desire to bring awareness to young people battling anxiety, through fashion.

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El Hombre Y Su Flor

In His Life

“Window Shop” from Ours
“Beach Walk” from Ours

Your body, and the hopefully happy adventures you can have
I am the worst, but…

Ask Jen!

Ask Jen


Blogger’s Ball & New Poems :)

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Some would say I’m a bit set in my ways. It wouldn’t be an unfair criticism. I tend to go to the same places, wear the same products, eat the same things, and generally just keep a routine. This is all fine, I suppose, my adventures are normally in my writing. I send my characters into wild situations, because I simply don’t have it in me to deviate from my usual carousel, but recently, I decided to jump off the usual painted horse, and see what else the fairground of life had to offer.

I have a blog, I’m interested in other blogs, so I thought heading out to a blogging event would be a great way to see what else is out there, and so off I went to London, to attend the Blogger’s Ball.

The Blogger’s Ball was an event organised by Scarlett, who has an absolutely beautiful blog that I’m sure you’ll love, and centred around giving Bloggers and vloggers the chance to interact with each other as well as with brands.

I was nervous, then again, I always am, but I was determined to put myself out there and try something new, and it turns out, I tried a lot of new things, and contrary to my initial worries, it was fine. I have always disliked trying new things, because I worry that I won’t like it, and that for a time, as short as it may be, I will be stuck with that choice. If I try a new food and hate it, it’s stuck in my mouth until I deal with that, if I try a new outfit, I might not have time to change into something else, if I watch a new show, I might hate it but feel obliged to finish it because it keeps showing up in my “continue watching” list on Netflix. These are all ridiculous fears, because they aren’t that big of a deal, but they exist, and they wander round my head on a constant basis.

The Bloggers Ball for me was an afternoon of new experiences, and one I’m glad I was a part of. Meeting people who were passionate about the same things, and had faced some of the same difficulties as me was enlightening, and comforting. Sometimes, I feel like I’m just typing to myself, and it can feel lonely, to be collecting so many thoughts in a space to show to a world that might not even want to see, but meeting other people who had thought exactly the same made me realise that a) I wasn’t alone in that, b) More people are probably listening than I realise c) whether people are or aren’t listening, it doesn’t matter, it just matters that you have fun.

I also learned that lavender chocolate was a thing. I have to be real, lavender is my thing. I love the smell of lavender, I love how it looks, I love the colour. You would not believe how much lavender related merchandise I have. If you could be a stan of a plant, I would be a lavender stan. It was at the booth for Seed and Bean chocolate, who have basically done a public service by creating guilt free chocolate, that I discovered lavender chocolate. What you need to know is that lavender chocolate is delicious. How do I know this? Well, I tried some. Now, this may seem like nothing to many, but to me, it is a huge deal. I don’t do new food. I don’t really do new anything, as I’ve spoken about previously. However, I love lavender, and I’m fond of chocolate too, so I decided, on a day where I had promised to try something new, to try lavender chocolate. I made a good choice, a great choice even. It wasn’t overpowering, which I’d been expecting, but subtle and unique, and honestly, I feel like it was a metaphor for the day as a whole. There are things that I love, that if I took a little further, I could love even more, I just have to try and overcome that fear of taking the first step (or bite) and just get stuck into life.

The bloggers ball was a glittering image of all I could be, in my brave new world, and what I could have missed out on, had I kept to the smooth and steady path of my routine. To see so many people reaching for their goals and making things happen for themselves was awesome, and it inspired me to do the exact same. I’m going to try new things (definitely more lavender chocolate) and just see what happens!

Unrelated, but hopefully welcome, below are some new poems 🙂


J x

El Hombre Y Su Flor
In His Life


Further Writing Adventures

May Faves



el hombre y su flor jennifer juan


You fell asleep as I fell in love,
and I loved the longing,
obsessed with obsessing
over each luscious line,
across your forehead,
and out your mouth.

I knew your tales were as tall as your frame,
your humour as blue as your dangerous eyes,
your intentions as pure as a puddle of mud,
and your feelings for me were fickle, perhaps.

I still stayed,
just in case I was wrong,
eyes closed,
on your lap,
an obedient optimist,
without the strength,
or inclination
to be anything but yours.

Selective Amnesia

Regret burns as it trickles down my throat,
chased by the chasers and shot by shots,
nothing will let me forget.
I can’t see what I’ve done,
through a curtain of crying,
and an image of myself,
so innocent,
that I assure myself I’ve yet to lose.
If I were to admit to my affliction,
and under the drunken distraction,
I already have,
but if truth were to dive into denial,
and swim past my defences,
my heart would break,
as easily as yours did.

El Hombre Y Su Flor

I prayed for rain,
when I didn’t trust myself
to grasp what I needed.
Nature knows,
and it’s in your nature
to keep my head to the sun,
and my ego fed, and ever growing.
We grew,
our roots
infecting every inch of earth we found,
when I thought
I had burrowed beneath myself,
far from the beaks of birds,
and the might of man,
you nurtured a near dead heart,
until I flourished.
Floral, fanciful and free.


Undressed of my old life,
and alone,
at the mercy of future’s fashion.
Where to?
What for?
I stood,
on a travelling cloud towards clarity,
until I found myself at the front of the line,
heading for the unforgiving uncertainty.
Perhaps there is a door,
now I’m dressed up, nice and new,
and I will find a handle,
and get a handle on what happens next.


God and good times
live in every inch of you.
It never clashed,
because you were born to be loved,
and to step two three, step two three
and enchant the bad boys at the bar.
Dancing turns to diamonds,
when every man on the island
is under your spell,
but your focus is familia,
and your face is so familiar,
at the chapel and the clubs.
The darling of the dancehall,
and the honey of the heavens,
you’ll party until life turns up the lights
and you’re played out to paradise.

Brexit Stage Right

There is no dainty divorce,
no hands held under the table
as the ink dries,
and the leftovers are torn to shreds,
so each who is “right” gets a piece.
Dress up your disdain,
for those you’ll leave behind,
for a few more years
of way back when,
and political correctness gone “sane”.
Yet, your “sanity” is frivolous,
and logicless and limitless.
Long ago,
an innocent R was unrolled
as it arrived at your door,
in an effort to please you,
but it was met with your own.
Your R is less lax,
frightening and frightened,
of the unknown,
and the uncharted.
Take it back,
was the plan for the never been taken,
while the never yet lived,
will never get to live.

Where Does Love Live?

pistol whipped by passion,
less is more
until the door closes,
and the world is not witness
to the the damnation
of desperate love.
Hearts wrenching,
and racing
at the thought of each other,
hearts running
and retching
at the thought of another.
Where do we rest us,
our messy, maddening moments?
In our thoughts,
outside the door,
and in our bodies,
when in private.
Another day,
another hideout,
we’ve been to all three Charing stations,
each marked with kisses on the map.
Searching for sanctuary
that exists
outside knowing looks,
and incriminating emails.

Old Boy

Remembers our rhythm,
or lack thereof in his case.
Foundations of fondness,
insulated by innuendo.
So endearing,
so enchanting,
but never vintage enough for the season.
Such a young boy,
was my old boy,
too young for my old heart,
but old enough to know he can’t fix it.


For you, I will.
I’ll never ask it of you,
until you ask it of me.
I’ve thought, of course,
narrowed down the narratives,
played Sherlock,
as I pinned you down,
wrote us down.
I’ll give you a happy ending,
even though I’m not the touching type,
both physically,
I might never get you,
but as long as I have you,
I’m not sure I need the instructions,
the destructions could be waiting within,
and I’m better not knowing,
the damage I could do.
For you, I will.
Quite what, I’m not sure,
yet if you ask it of me,
for you, I will.

Not Quite Twins

Each pinnacle reached,
by dismembering my memories,
and crushing new culture where it doesn’t want to fit.
Each morning,
I gaze at each gift
from those who came before me,
that adorns a face I have wished away,
in daily betrayals of who I am.
Butchered the beauty unrecognised,
and painted myself untrue for the world.
This is becoming a speech,
also wished into new form,
until I forget the self I was born with.
She has vanished,
elusive and annoyed,
until I dream.
At night, she uncloaks,
unveils personal truth,
that covers my cunning contour,
unassimilated and unassuming,
she is the purest love I have ever known.

Further Writing Adventures

Hola amigos reflexivos,

I hope you’ve all been well. I’ve got some new poetry below which you can check out.

I’ve also been working on some short stories, which aren’t quite finished yet, but are coming along quite nicely. I was inspired after reading the work of my friend that gave me a deeper appreciation of the short story.

Don’t get me wrong, I was always into them, but I’ve never really written them, and so it was fun to delve further into a medium I didn’t often explore. I’ll hopefully post them soon. Of course, they’re romantic (this is me), but there’s a little difference that I’m hoping makes them exciting.

I had a great time working with new characters and scenarios, and it was a great writing experience to do something a little different, so hopefully you’ll enjoy them.


J x

In His Life

Divisive, Divine

May Faves
First Listen Thoughts – Jodie Knight 


in his life jennifer juan

You Get Less For Murder

I’ve tried digging the nails you helped me paint,
under your glowing ground floor to dig deeper.
I wanted to pick parts of my idealism away,
in the hopes that I could plan an escape.
I broke a nail.
Your lips launched on the stinging sensation,
until my frightened finger was calm,
and only shook because it was shy.
I’m getting used to the idea,
like I became used to the in-out-in-out night time respiratory adventures,
and the face you try not to make when I tell you I’m willing to cook.
I count both, the breaths, the culinary reluctance.
Both polite, both pushing my heart to keep up the good work.
I see your stomach ache face in milk sans soy,
and your name is spelled, subtle in the presumptuous playlist we made.
I think…
I know, I’ll love you forever.
I just hope you can love me too.

Comparing And Crediting

Even though your eyes
have nothing in common
with the pollution and pain of the ocean,
I see them in wanderlust waves,
dancing to the dunes
and lapping at my legs.
You have no connection
to my compulsion to breathe,
no matter what I’ve told you.
Sometimes I feel it’s me doing you a favour,
but I’d honestly be doing it anyway.
Wouldn’t I?
I’ll still let you take the credit,
for the air arranges neatly in my lungs,
no longer pushing and shoving,
since I first breathed for you.
I could easily pick the sun
from a line up that included your smile,
but as bright and beautiful as all things are,
I’d only pick the sun to escape
the gracious glare of your glorious grimace.

The Incarceration Of Mimi

Everyone loves a sing song,
you have them every night in sing sing.
Pad the planks of your prison palace,
butterflies break from the boundaries,
and your eyes plead,
when your lips can’t,
for them to return for you someday.
The grotesque glamour of the diamond dragon,
tail trapping a princess,
in a kingdom she couldn’t explore.
Perhaps, all that glitters is your spirit,
still shining, and still standing,
under more strain than your smile will show.

Keeping Up

The stars are shippers,
kept young by the scenes we play out,
and the dreams we send up,
and the arrogant apprehension of our affection.
We know we have an audience,
and we play like Kardashians,
the cosmos slipping off their seats,
while we cut to a commercial.


Let me imagine,
that my path is more,
than a million alarms,
a million commutes,
a million missed moments,
lost to traffic jams and unpaid overtime.
Let me be more than a widow
to my dreams,
parted prematurely
by the death knell of kneeling to reality.
I’m not ready to weep
for the wishes on wasted, defeated stars,
or to blow out the candles on every ambition,
carefully constructed with optimistic oxygen on fantasy flames.
They told me to dream in dollars,
but the American Dream, is unavailable in my country,
or in the country of origin,
or anywhere.
Exchange my investment at the post office,
and head back home.
Coppers smash through the windscreen,
of a car I’ll never afford,
on the road to a house I’ll never own,
in a tepid town,
that doesn’t open up to “my sort”.
Won’t you give me one more moment,
to pretend something could change.
Let me get my fix,
of the aspiration I’m addicted to.

Scrubbing, Spritzing and Holding

She can scrub my lipstick from your collar,
nude stained when nude,
vanished by vanish.
God damn it, she tries.

She can spritz my perfume from your coats,
the virtue of vanilla never appealed to you,
in scent or in sex,
but god damn it, she tries.

She can hold you hostage in your home,
hold you to your vows.
More than my lips and candy bling are stained on your soul,
but god damn it, she’ll try.

I wait, painted and perfumed,
for the cautious, callous call.
I start scrubbing and spritzing too,
holding myself hostage,
but in my heart,
I know it’s been too late, for too long,
and God damn it, I’ve tried.

Little Frances

You were sweet as cotton candy,
so they pulled and picked,
your time,
your smile,
your life,
until your stick,
fell to the fame,
and those very same consumers,
threw up an ending,
that Hollywood would never approve.

Inauthentic Apparel

My shirt,
with low morals,
and an even lower neckline
spread rumours all about town.
She said that we’ve had every single man,
in every single place,
and every single hole,
in every single way.
We? I ask you.
I wish she had invited me along,
I could have done with a change of schedule,
from Netflix binges
and self pity.

In His Life

I’m no McCartney,
but he had Lennon looks.
Yellow couch with all our secrets,
made redundant by a room full of news.
We deviated from the map we sketched,
ran past the landlord,
changed the locks on ourselves.
Bloody brother and sister,
not born by bone,
glued by a tempestuous tenancy,
and game nights.


I type your name
on my tongue every chance I get.
I’ve slammed the backspace key
so many times that it has stopped working,
leaving no choice but to download you,
and cry, consumed by your virus.
If you were to say that I wasn’t your file type,
or that I didn’t fit in your drive,
or that you couldn’t spare the run time
then I could delete every devoted daydream,
send myself to sleep mode,
yet still,
you leave me warm and whirring.

Nothing But Longing

His eyes firmly on the camera,
glazed and distant,
as his patrons preferred.
He felt a sensation that he called tiredness,
but today, he couldn’t pretend
that it was anything less than apathy.
He went through the motions,
fingers down his chest,
fingers through his hair,
fingers on his unmentionables,
but despite his fingers,
and those of others exploring his body,
he felt nothing but longing.
He couldn’t wish for an ending,
so that he could go home,
because there was no home to go to,
and nothing to do when he arrived there. There was an apartment,
of course,
respectable in size,
and tacky in décor
according to his own inner monologue,
and the criticisms of occasional hook ups,
but it wasn’t a home.
It wouldn’t be again,
until his little bird,
returned to the nest.

You, Or Nobody

You were contained fire.
Light and warmth, without destruction.
You cooked the raw ingredients of my making,
without burning the flavour I thought I had lost.
Before you, I had heat everywhere but my heart,
I thought of thawing, but it wasn’t who I was,
or who I told myself I was,
to keep what lay underneath safe,
from hungry hands under the table.
I knew,
it was you,
or nobody.
That was the exact request of the recipe,
no substitutes,
no stand ins,
or nothing rises,
and nothing shall be devoured.
I know,
without you,
I am charred, and tasteless.
Our flavour has lingered on my lips too long,
that I crave you more with every second.