For me, 

Please,

Stop cutting.

I said.

A broken record.

Only now,

As she lays in the grave,

Six feet under.

I wonder

if things would have changed,

If I just once asked her to

Stop cutting,

Please,

For you. 

Would it have made a difference, though?

The reason to cut or not remains 

the same, either way.

Nothing can change that here

She...

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carve the cloth off my skin,

wipe the polish off my nails,

scrape the itch off my flesh;

i can’t help it,

i won’t stand it again.

strawberry dressing on vanilla ice cream;

paint spilled over the notebook’s page

i feel the ink in my fingerprints,

it’s staining my hands.

i don’t know that i’ll ever get it out again

rip the skin off my bones,

pry my nails of...

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The following is my response to Red Button's recent post: https://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.com/2022/10/bemoaning-state-of-high-street.html

Britain’s been given

An Anti-Social-ist Behaviour Dis-Order,

The Tories flaunt it,

Like a naughty teen.

Britain’s ill, but can’t get treament,

Because of the cuts,

So the cuts on her wrists,

Are growing in number,

I’ve grown acc...

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31.08.21

I was waging war on my body before it had even fully grown 
No respect for the temple that houses my soul 
With cuts, and drugs and other people's limbs
I have shown her little she is respected 
And expected her to carry on as though she were

Countless sleepless nights and 'just one more drink' 
And I have pushed her to her limit 
She's crying out for acknowledgement
No more ...

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Your hands have turned to catacombs
& you don’t know when exactly but sometime last month the last of your violets wilted in the hollows of your collarbones.
You’ve got spiderwebs for eyelashes the pupils of a black widow
and when they ask you if you’re okay, you explain you haven’t eaten much today

you smile with brittle-boned teeth.
Your heart feels unsteady in the way that it just won’t ...

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If I could lie with poetry as if beside a lover,

Rhymes like arms to hold me, laden pages as a cover

between me and my reality, the truth I try to hide,

Too feeble for the malice of the world that waits outside.

If I could lie with poetry as if upon a lover,

Minds meeting as hearts beat to find the rhythm of the other,

Words caressing skin, or tasting sweet on lips so red,

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