it’s mid-april 2022. i’m restless, fidgeting on a plastic waiting room chair, as i enter my sixth hour in a&e. i’m wishing i hadn’t worn jeans, i feel the denim debossing my empty stoma...

almost– the absence of attempt; an… to my insides, a full stop in the… of a comma. the warmest of ambers can never glow green, and i’m temp… in trying to turn embers to emeral…

you see her in dreams, a lonely th… the villain in the corner of your… mantle of red velvet straight from… faceless, therefore anyone– skelet… to flesh with projection, to cast…

this body is not intimacy, it is a curation without context, and you cannot take what you did n… seeing is an instant– behind the f… lie the scrawls of ages, the aband…

i wonder where the forgotten words… in corked bottles, on shelves. att… find an ending while i tie yesterd… afternoon to the tail end of grann… tiffin recipe– no sultanas, just

i’d always hoped my fingertips wou… the right amount of gentle to pluc… out whole, but i could never find… of what drew me so close. trying t… the stillness but settling into st…

we’re in familiar surroundings but an entirely unfamiliar place, and perhaps it’s okay to take time charting this new, uncanny territory. it’s likely limited, made up of walls and doors...

nearly a year since those tentativ… settling into new shoes, tying the… our heels nestling in nicely to br… habits like old haunts. intending… last, until the last. we’ll re-sol…

another night spent at the world’s… inverted time, the daylight spent.… saturate the night instead– counti… hollows in walls and brewing grand… dissipate in the coffee press. por…

i tried to write sadness, believin… was breaking and penning your pret… into being. i tried to read words… that were never there, to make the… into something sincere. but no scr…

we can try each other on, like sho… round the heels, loose-laced, then… we could melt like peppermints– he… single hiccup, a gulp, and forgott… we wouldn’t even flirt with tenure…

shatter the hourglass. there are more stars in the sky than there is sand on the beaches anyway. i’m not pitching mile-markers. just leaning into reverie. the ticking over of the hand i...

moon vines snap shut, strawberry s… the fruit. you take the penrose st… wonderland, spiralling like a frac… circling the hamlet behind my eyes on splintered clock-hands. time, i…

for the twenty-sixth time, i have kept my appointment with the wicker man. i have set alight an effigy of the before and began anew; sifting through the charred remains and pocketing wh...

i calculate my words before they f… out, trying not to be too much or… little. i long to be memorable, sm… hints nestled in my syllables like… paint me in the brightest shades,…