Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal

Train Crash

We flew into Tottenham Hale,

and I wanted to crash.

I wanted to crash.

I wanted to see my mind,

a beautiful mind,

(or so I’m told),

displayed against the door of the underground train,

because I need you,

and I want you,

and I have poured my entire soul into you,

but your cruel eyes,

only see me,

when I am undressed,

when I am adorably corruptible,

when I am beneath you.

img_4656

We didn’t crash.

The carriages rattled,

with the sheer volume of our tension,

but you held my hand,

and you smiled,

and I wondered,

if love was always like this.

The train did not crash,

but it did break down,

stuttering to a stop,

my hand cut free,

from the absurdly perfect scene,

we had been putting on for the public.

Yours went to work,

on finding out what the fuck was going on,

but mine stayed in place,

obedient,

afraid,

unable to think for herself anymore,

and yet again,

I wished we would crash,

just for a moment,

so I would be dead,

so I would escape,

so I would be remembered as someone who could think,

if she was free.


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

13th November

Black and white,

basked in moonlight,

monochrome mistress,

of my ungranted wishes,

I am in the garden,

guarding my heart from your head full of hopes and dreams.

I have been seen,

by the stars,

staring at a telephone,

that projects classic scenes,

black and white,

like me,

trains and roaring lions,

and a kiss,

that could belong to us,

if I only had the nerve,

to give my heart,

to the intentions and attentions of your brain.

img_4661

I am at home with the horror of heartbreak,

breaking my own heart,

with my own hands,

keeping her locked away,

black and white,

black and blue.

She’s too sweet,

for the dusky,

beaten up streets,

she’s been buried,

under her own unrealistic expectations,

living underneath the underground,

where she was first split,

spilling all across the tracks,

until I picked her up,

patching her up,

promising that I would keep her safe,

but…

You are looming in the doorway,

drumming your fingers on the frame,

tempting me,

with a trail of torrential trailers,

of our forever love together,

and I followed it…

Goodness, gracious, Gretal,

here we go again.


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Posted in Blog

Locals and Pink Fiats

Oh, yes, but of course,

for locals and pink fiats,

the decade was bare.

 

 

Barely anything,

is required, to relate,

when art is so vague.

 

 

Ten years drag along,

swallowing the same slurry,

and we will drink more.

 

 

Maybe it tastes fine,

because our taste buds are burned.

Fire marketing.

 

 

It’s what we deserve,

for demanding small giants

because thinking sucks.

 

 

We will die tonight,

to defend our right to starve.

lol lol lol lol lol


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Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

If I Loved Him

If I loved him,

I would be staring fear directly in the face,

hoping that I could hold myself together,

torn by the temptation to tear myself limb from limb,

rebuilding myself into the girl I am,

in his dreams.

I hold my eyes open,

so that I can’t sleep,

hoping he’ll mimic me,

because I’m not sure I can be that girl,

anymore.


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RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
In The Garden Of The Free Children
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song

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Tumblr
Amazon

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