If I could collect each tear from across the years that were spilled due to drugs devilish deal since childhood and drop them in the ocean I'd start a tidal wave of purely sweet emotion, wash away the victims' pain, annihilate the makers' gain and of course, refill, all the other hearts that were drained.
The snake wraps around the grooves of my brain, the ventricles of my heart, constricts my lungs, flips my tummy with flicking tongue. Most active in the early hours. I obsess, (stop thinking, oops, I'm off again) over him needing salad. If I could I'd eat elephant-sized iceberg lettuces everyday for his nutrient-craving body. The... Continue Reading →
When I have a drink in bed, the mattress could be anything, a raft, an island, a flying carpet. 8pm in bed on a Saturday night? In my 20s I swore I'd party my whole life. I was right. Except now the party isn't a Saturday night, the party is in my soul. It's gratitude... Continue Reading →
Sat together, he closes his eyes and I think the same old thing that's looped over, over, over for two years. Let us find the cure to heal his body, save his life and give me many, many, many more nights of him snoring lightly, quietly, peacefully beside me on this brown leather sofa. His... Continue Reading →
She realised she must be grateful for fucked up shit. They were still alive. Impossible thought! But in the early morning, she felt a new day. Blessing. The smell of onions on her washed hands was life now. They cooked together. Some days they chanted, cross-legged, closed-eyes, holding hands. Other days he'd walk. Deep breaths.... Continue Reading →
You uplift me. I say, I'm terrified. You listen with shimmering eyes. Listen humbly as always. We acknowledge not wanting to cause pain in the other. Your brown hand scarred with tiny pale circles of light skin, from burns, digs fingers into your scalp amongst speckled grey, beautiful-black dreadlocks. That hair. Smells of comfort, of... Continue Reading →
He wets his fingers, pinches her lit wick and extinguishes her flame when he says, 'You're not very sexual.' Her heart is lonely, harbouring the thought of the tumor in her father's lung. The sky is white, the road treacherous. She clasps a blemished crystal as though it's a compass.
Laid on her bed the breeze soft on her shoulders, she heard his voice out the window talking to a neighbour and jumped up to see him. Moonlight shone on Papa's dreadlocks. He waved. She copied. A forgotten memory caught in her chest. One from when she was four, five, six, of waiting to see... Continue Reading →
Madness. As of February, I'm going to be working minimum hours a week for minimum wage so that I can focus on my writing and spend time with Dad. He doesn't know that, yet. He's been in so much pain and I can't bear the idea of looking back at this time and wishing I... Continue Reading →