she came from love
wearing belt welts and liquor;

he came from love
that bought absences with gifts.

not all loves leave the same scars

she ran at hate
with a razor blade pillow

he ran at hate
with a gun and syringe

not all hates burn the same.

but they – they surrender to love
a home to hold
in the engulfing emptiness
that fills their open arms.

not all loves are islands of peace.

not all hates unlock their jaws. 



[this was created in response to the prompt ‘looking forwards and not backwards’]

If time is a circle
//not a line// 
then surely,
one day
my eyes will meet
your smile again.

#haiku collection

A few I have written recently (to my shame, I don’t know what the plural of ‘haiku’ is).


mouth frames a silent
shape into the ultimate
defeat of language.


gulping down bottles
brimming with you yet I still
have deserts for lips.

eyes closed

when eyes shut, you paint
my world in hues of jade smiles
and cherry laughter.


she wanders round rooms,
fingers flicking morse code lights;
no doorways darkened.


I excavate words,
the archaeology of
ancient souls laid bare


you: an open wound
cauterised daily with lime
and tequila tears.


forests splayed, spreadeagled
across our cold concrete walls

birds hum lullabies
in the notes of our songs

water washes away
the grinding weariness of gravity.

in truth, every day
we are returning
to the earth
before the grave.

East of Eden

sunlight dances
a foxtrot
across yearning skin;
doubts are quelled
during the certitude of

yet moonlight tosses
the heart to nauseous seas
sending the soul
so far east,
it lands
in the west
beyond the gilded orchard

to those that live in the dark


yeah, you.
in the corner,
dark eyes,

dark soul

–  you.

my sanity matches yours.

I mean, hello.

I’m sane, I promise.
(a different kind of sane – the kind
that terrifies people 

who can’t navigate storms)

let me
– would you let me? –
take you away
from this sunscorched place
and wrench open the
trapdoor to the
jagged gale of my heart

let’s run away,
laughing and whispering
into bleeding nights
with nothing but stars
for a blanket.

let’s hold our broken skin together
and tattoo over our
thirsty demons,
till no one can tell
we were shattered in the first place.

let me kiss
the scars they’ve left on your soul
while we weep ritual salts
on our rusted
wrought-iron wounds.

#poem : spoonfuls

[prompt was ‘spoon’]

softness of curved edges anointed
with the depth of souls;
the spoon was surely invented by
a lover of the world.

thus when I am ill,
I beg you deliver my cure
through spoonfuls of languid nights
spent tumbling into you.

sinner’s lines

I light matches for ghouls’ gunpowder apocalypse
when all they wanted was ‘a smoke’

I tread all along the road, thinking I am doing well,
when in fact I was heading to hell with average intentions.

I set bombs ticking under straw houses
when all they wanted was a heart to call ‘home’

I spit snake-like venom against all I know
to stop them melting into my skin

I confess to saints and monsters alike
but when they hold up the mirror, I am the sin