i felt the ache in my wrists,
from where i’d written
all those stories
truths and lies;
i’m running out of space.


“Sensible Ink”

the ink makes more sense
when your bruised, when
beautiful pain bursts
behind your eyelids
and cracks your wrists
with the fury of all
you wish you could say.

“I Heartily Recommend”

I heartily recommend the all-day breakfast,
but only with at least two drinks
and before plenty more, and only if following
utter denial and sudden-onset depression
likely entirely deserved.

You see, it’d almost taste bitter
if she hadn’t frowned and apologise
and told you she’s not looking
for a relationship right now
but she’s happy to be friends.

But because you’re in pain,
well, that gives the eggs
proper flavour.

“Complain about the Way”

All you do is complain about the way
of things, and the outcome you all but
demanded in the way you went about it.

Fuck you, and all the crap you stand for.
Forget the pain; only you control you.
Wake up and decide to be happy.

It’s really that simple; pretend you’re happy
and soon it’ll rub off onto reality,
and then you might be smiling again.

“Public and Private”

Hurt is public
pleasure private.

Love, unless lost,
not to be discussed.

Pain, and the cost
is a more worthy muse.

Flowers, colours
touch of skin on skin
is for knowing hearts
not reading eyes.

Despair is the food of the many.
Maybe it’ll make it
worth it.

I fight back thought
and write.