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Vultures
The depths of winter stare daggers from a distance,war cries arrive on the wind,and I am bleeding by Autumn.I am gathered and gutted,my soul, spilled across meadows,my mind following it,just to find some peace and quiet.I’ve got nothing left,but the vultures venture to where I was last seen,smiling with full beaks,breaking their jaws to swallow…
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Red, White and Blue Houses
There’s a redhead in a one bed flat,with a baby that sobs the blues,his winter coat can’t stand up to the cold,and the sirens don’t let him sleep at night. “That’s just life” she tells him,rocking him for four futile hours,her eyes never leaving the broken lock on the front door,as the song of the…
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I Have Emptied Out All My Anxieties and Presented Them In A Long Ramble, For The Ease Of My Long Suffering Therapist
I miss being bankrupted by my local cinema for a small popcorn and a milkshake. I miss being alone in the dark, as monsters make chaos on the screen before my eyes, while I imagine an arm around my shoulder and a kiss upon my cheek. I miss being kissed. Kissed by him specifically. The…
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Marcus Rashford Is Right
We cry for statues, but not kids in poverty. Our tears are wasted. Our tears should drown us. The world is starved of kindness. A shameful cyclone. A shameful cycle. The poor will always perish, but statues live well. I recall hunger, optimistic and tired, so do so many. We worship the stone, our government’s…
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Sincerely, Jennifer x 