When I get to Heaven…


The Angels – Michelangelo

When I get to heaven and the angels ask me, ‘how was it? All that time on earth?’ I’ll say, ‘fuck, it was tough.’

When you look into my eyes and question why I don’t believe, I’ll ask you why you need to. Let’s put aside our arrogance for one evening. You put your flesh on my flesh and remember that it contains no knowledge, nor power, nor eternity – it’s just flesh. The beauty of our flesh is what makes the angels sing the songs that we will never understand until that day. So love me now that you can, and leave me only when the angels separate us.

My Safe Place

Remember when I could’ve drowned in my tears but you stayed afloat,
So I listened to your silence to soothe my soul,
A knowing nod that meant I was still royalty
No matter what anyone else said; you’d slay my judges.

My safe place. Now that you’re gone I’m drowning.
What do I do with the enemies that rob my confidence?
Now that I can’t feel your everlasting pride in me.
My safe place, where I never had to be anything
Because you already knew my potential, my pain, my needs.

God, bring him back to me, so I can hold his hand,
So he can hold me.

I fall and there is no comfort.

Scrambled Eggs

My life in pills. One pill, two pill, three pill. Six months’ worth please. No, I don’t smoke (obviously I do, bitch, don’t judge me). Will I die (won’t we all)? But no baby right? Will it still make me not have a baby? Wait, I want a baby. Goodbye eggs. Scrambled please. Blood pressure’s fine. Weight the same. Everything’s the same, day after day. Pill after pill. Monday, Tuesday…


Friday 13th October.
They say it’s an unlucky day.
But how can it be unlucky when she was born that day?
Even though she went too early it will always be the luckiest day ever.

I love you, Mummy.

A Big Bird on the Verandah


Tracey Emin

Last night I saw you on the verandah and everything was okay.
They say such birds don’t fly by night but along you came.
I should have known. You’d never left me alone before.

Rock of ages, Ancient of days, My Grandaddy.

Where to find you now? Amongst all of the chaos and confusion
Of endless days. Why, perched on the railings of the verandah
With Mummy and Gran chattering away about times gone past,
Spurring on my tomorrows.

I hear your laughter and I stop the crying.
There’s no need for tears when we’re all together,
Gathered like this on the verandah.

Your presence is the gift of the night, and so I dream.

My Broken Column

The Broken Column

The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo

The simultaneous love and hatred of life
The beauty of melancholy
The ownership of low self esteem because trying is too difficult
The disorientation of a passing moment
The will to begin again
The terror of depression
The quickening of time
The knowledge of the past and its shadow over tomorrow
The don’t look back
The draining of all creativity
My broken column

Mary (mother of misery)


Your miserable hanging face. Just want to hook a bag on your mouth to show how much you drain me, make me angry and disgusted with life. Like, cheer up for fuck’s sake… Can’t believe he ever loved you. Can’t imagine how distressing that climax must have been staring into your weeping eyes. How distressing it was for me even imagining it when I was forced to look at you. Looking away. Running away. Getting away from your morbidity. The stench of death. All over my whole fucking relationship. What a waste.

Blood on Me

No words. You took my first words. I remember that, can’t forget that. Blood on the leaves. Murder of the Springtime. No more nursery rhymes for me. Blood on the sheets. Wounds of history. An unnatural inheritance through your bloodline to me. Blood on the car seat. Stolen jewellery and things like that, like choice and dignity and myself. Blood from you. ‘All stabbed up’. Blood on me. I don’t want your blood on me. I don’t want your blood on me.