Lost and Found

I know the day will come // I know, and I fear it // I fear waking up knowing // that now, I walk alone.// How shall I live, then?

Biding Time

It may have seemed as ifhope had left usbut that wasn't entirely true. In our interactions, we conveyedthat things seemed hopelessand change would never happen. In fact, change always comesone way or the otherresist it, and sufferembrace it, and live. It may have seemed as ifwe were acceptingbut we were just biding timenesting, sucking in... Continue Reading →


I have always wondered why we take up so much space.// Why we see the world as ours and not one to share.// I have always wondered at our assured ability to distinguish weed from flowers.// What right have we to dominate?


She’s the first breath you suck in after you’ve been under for a while //The silence of the morning you’ve been waiting for //Alone, at dawn, with nothing but the vast and still blueness //And your movement, melting into the rippled surface.

Queen of Life

When dusk comes // and it is time to bow out // all that ever mattered // is weighed up // (not in words). // She who conquered fear was a master in her own right.


Childhood. // An eternity of slowing down // of peering, stopping, noticing the smallness // making sense of vastness // creating universes // and picking them apart.

Reality, Incarcerated.

You were never meant to linger here, Natalie, do somersaults in my belly // chill my bloodstream // mess with my brain.// My first published short story, 'Natalie', plays with the concept of reality.


As the November sun climbs higher // Soon to disappear out of view // I feel it // in every fiber of my being //Fall is not farewell. It is a quiet celebration// A subtle defiance// A rebellion of sorts// A dance of life.


If I can have just a glimpse // of what fuels this valley // It's what I came for // What I call out for // What echos back // What I miss most // When it's lost in the woods.

Piccadilly Circus

His corner of the world was one of concrete His soles raw from cold cobblestones (yet all he saw was shoes.) The answer to everyone's riddle is there: in his rags, his unkempt mane, his bruised and scarred arms.

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