Thursday, 25 January 2018

The Cutting Block

There is a girl who litters her skin with words that she hasn't spoken,
Memories that she has not made, places she has not seen.
They tell her that those are the days she'll remember,
A way of living that takes and takes and leaves you raw and brittle.
She hates those days, keeps them in a photograph hidden on display.

She wears her best skin and ignores the hushed conversation,
Have you seen the fine china, they ask. Have you seen the cracks
In the walls and the dark shadows that follow us to the graves we dig.
There's earth on her tongue and weeds growing in her throat, and can
you keep it down, please, nobody wants to hear your politics.

Polite conversation. Lovely weather we're having, they say, but
She's drowning under the growing rapids, struggling to stay afloat.
Cut into the steak, it's better when it bleeds. The walls tell the story
of a boy who kissed the barrel of a gun, but we don't talk about that.

We don't talk about the collective; we don't talk about being stripped
to bones and a heartbeat, having given so much there's nothing left
To take. Smile, extend a hand, return gesture to sender.
She's quite the artist, they boast, saying they knew her when.

She'll make it if she's meant to, they say, fire at their fingertips
As they close doors behind her. She's rasping in the cold,
Lungs weak from fighting the ice they all take in so naturally,
But she's far from home with no place to get warm.

They don't remember the script they wrote, back when they were she.
They don't remember the labour sold for more than hers is worth now,
But they'll close their eyes when it's not their place and trust in a system
Which was never meant to last.

Yuletide

We went to sleep in sunlight
And woke up in the dark.
There was snow and bitter cold,
And a sorrow in our hearts.
You had to say goodbye again,
The words never passed your lips,
And we couldn't hear what wasn't said,
Only wait for the scales to tip.

How do we find the ends of a thread
When half a heart is gone?
How do we pull our bootstraps up
And try to soldier on?
If unfilled dreams go to rest,
I hope you're with them now.
I hope you're finding what you lost
And are making yourself proud. 

What did you whisper in the dark?
I guess we'll never know. 
How did the sun just go to sleep,
When will the ice start to flow?
A thousand questions never answered,
A thousand reasons why.
Twenty-four hours weren't enough,
Not to say goodbye

Saturday, 31 December 2016

What They Don't Tell You About Recovering From Depression

[My experiences are my own and do not reflect, nor do I speak for, other depressive experiences or depression sufferers. Article contains non-explicit mentions of self-harm, therefore reader discretion is advised.]

Although it's probably not the best note to end 2016 on, and definitely not the most positive to start 2017, depression will never leave you. Not entirely. Now, don't get me wrong, it does get better. It gets so much better - the day you're able to breathe in and feel the cold, crisp winter air fill your lungs and compare it to being alive as opposed to being suffocated, it's wonderful. Finally feeling happiness and sadness and excitement again after months of being numb is indescribable. But it doesn't end there.

Wednesday, 17 February 2016

"Waiting on" Wednesday: When Ali Met Honour (e-book)

"Waiting On" Wednesday is a weekly event, hosted by Breaking the Spine, which spotlights upcoming releases that are eagerly anticipated. 





Wednesday, 29 July 2015

Being queer in a binary society*


* Queer v.s. Binary in relation to sexuality, not gender.


Ever since I was very young, I've known I didn't identify as heterosexual. Though I was too young to really know what this meant in the grand scheme of things, I knew it meant that I was different to most of the other boys and girls in my class. As an eight year old, different didn't automatically equate to bad like it unfortunately does for some people, and I decided my sexuality was something that could be saved to think about for another day - there was play time to focus on, after all. 


Saturday, 18 July 2015

Dublin, Ireland.

With our second year of University coming to an end, my housemates and I booked a two day get-a-way to southern Ireland. Dublin has never really been a place that comes to mind when asked where I want to travel to, but spontaneity nevertheless saw me checking in to East Midlands airport at 4:00am. In a haze of sleep deprivation and excitement, I had an amazing break away and wanted to share some tips and trips.

Saturday, 18 April 2015

Fifteen Things For Future Me

Bucket lists are becoming ever more popular, and it's almost impossible to browse through pinterest without stumbling across one board or another dedicated towards life goals. So, not one to go against the natural order of things, I decided to publish mine.