Selected Writings 2015 - Ongoing

I Guess This Is It

Obsessive poems of past loves line the walls of my bedroom

like a second skin,

echoes throughout my halls; flashbacks

feinting my body like hollow hugs.

One foot in front of the other, yet

somehow I keep ending up in my backyard,

slipping, almost

melting, under the moon.

There’s less of me than I remember.

Instantaneously I taste transparency,

my mouth holds no words, just something

that tastes like regrets, or maybe remorse.

Everything is numb again but I feel obliged,

to feel guilty so I’m forcing myself,

to feel that instead.

I’m telling myself that’s what I’m feeling

and eventually,

I’m telling my mother that too.

We’re sitting down in a room I’ve never seen,

not like this anyway, not this

bright, not this

close, a new version

a new vision.

I’m staying ‘true’ to myself

and promise myself,

to become who I used to be,

but I remember

I already buried them, at least three versions prior.

I’m stuck with this, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself

to make it easier.

Macabre Masturbation


Currently shameless, so clean it stings

I can recall the dirt, the grit and the shit that hurt

more than before


I presume we’ve met,

I extend my hand

He asks to borrow my fist, again

I said its his whenever he needs

I even leave it on his shelf on my way out and he slams the door behind me


Love is a four-letter word

Sometimes it’s a contract that you’re almost born in to

One I’d rather not sign again any time soon but I already promised my mother I’d repay the debts (with other debts)


I’m a mess, someone hire me. I can rock up on time; use the bathroom twice every hour. I’ll keep my hands clean and reduce my anxiety attacks to once every fortnight.


12 and a half years ago I was 12 and a half

he wouldn’t have thought of that though


In my sleep I said I love you

He said he doesn’t need my other fist.

Imposter Syndrome

Two weeks later:

A new personality, a new me (hopefully)


hello I love you


kiss me on the mouth


he pays for my drink

a gin and tonic

with a slice of lime and a stroke of my arm.


A Glory hole but for holding hands


in the past I would have cried


I’m telling someone else’s story as my own

they laugh

ha ha ha (I’m in)


the smell of warmth

but there’s no room in the spa


I watch the bubbles fight their way to the top

I’m drinking champagne now


I missed my stop again and my mum won’t pick me up because I’m 25 years old in my dreams and my nonchalance is regarded as negligence


Lonely walks home feel like memories and the nostalgia warms my core.



A name, a title, a prize;

A crybaby who survives.


From day to night skies,

he noticed a rise in sighs.


They’ve mapped their fears on their thighs,

again, unwise

it explains their muffled cries.


They tell him they’ve been suffocated by spies,

their new lies, were

always a surprise.


He asks how many more tries,

until they finally meet their inevitable demise,

And awake to swarming flies.

Cruising (Through Life)

the neediness leaks out of my pores and stains my old high school basketball shorts

the ones i wore on webcam that time

when I was a lot younger

his stare pierces me from the other side of the gym and I feel that tingle I haven't in longer than I can remember.

His bright pink booty shorts give me hope and I watch as he readjusts himself in the mirror with his two matching pink (5kg) dumbells.

My body movements change subconsciously and as I catch myself I flick my wrist so he knows what he's in for

I'm laughing but I don't think you're funny

4 beers in and you're touching my knee like you've touched it before 

like you've touched me before and like

you're ready to touch me again

a bad boyfriend is not a brag-worthy title

as my body shifted and changed your distance confirmed you'd noticed it too

I've read about metaphoric suffocation and like a light bulb moment I finally understood

I consider running but with my self diagnosed arthritis I'm aware my knees are weak and won't get me very far and although I have a license, I don't have my own getaway car and it seems odd asking to borrow yours.

In the shower I remember exactly how many rotations it takes to reach my ideal temperature

our ideal temperature 

that suited us both when we sat on the floor and let the droplets rain down on us disguising us, washing away our identities for just a moment as we sat their in complete silence, co existing.

Myth Mouth

Instant gratification takes too long


shouting into the void

they were coming to get me

but I am them too


a voice from hell said come a little closer, and I did

with their help, another notch in my belt


work out supplements work better

no come down


like a familiar sensation, another hug with an active pulse

I realize I’m sober and I slow down


I parked my bike against a white picket fence and remind myself

that high functioning depression was the goal


shooting for the stars

(the stars being neurotypicalism)


It starts at a catholic school

Emasculate conception

Concept: conception


Kill me, father pierce

Bury me on the hill in your name


I want all of what you’re selling

Ring the bell; I’m wearing a white dress

The only time it’s allowed.


I’m drowning in my mother’s tears,

I am my mother’s tears!


I’m gliding down the peak of her cheek and I’m sinking in to her dimpled grin

I’m smiling too


A slap on the wrist a day keeps the nightmares at bay.



Part, Penance

Consolidating in the shower again

Dissociating, my skin grows redder

I keep turning the taps but I don’t remember which way is which

The steam soothes my chest


Droplets massage my eyelids

The water is above my ankles

The bath matt is floating


My clothes in the corner of the bathroom become swans

Arching their necks into the shape of a heart

Sparkling white, they glimmer

I think they’re happy


I’m feeding them flakes of my skin

It’s peeling off so easily

Baked to perfection

At least someone is enjoying it


Someone calls my name

Like a song, my body dances

From the corner of my eye I see the clothes dive down the drain