Of wandering down foreign streets after empty people Of fights on the beach with ones you hold most dear Of the crack of knees when you rise from prayer The fucking patron saint of shacks on the roadside Of sore throats and sorer wrists Of shadows looming in the distance » Continue Reading
Scrape the wax off of me to reveal the wood underneath/ Fix me like i'm a broken teacup/my milky blood is spilling out onto the floor below Put honey on my wounds to kill the disease Honour the ways our ancestors healed. Put the spirit of the insect inside yourself Erudite an » Continue Reading
we lie in a lake of sated lusts in pools of sacred sunlight on floors of down, wool against bare skin need itches beneath me, and my hands paint a picture of hitched breaths and furrowed brows a watercolour of want on my hips, of wanton fervour in the way your hair brushes my neck i will not leave us as a question we are but the antithesis o » Continue Reading
our home hums swiftly onwards and i gaze over your head at the volcanoes outside our window. i breathe. we are at a rest stop- everyone off, a hubbub of strange words and stranger looks, from allies and enemies both. i breathe. we are in a hotel room, sickly city-air whirring through the fans outside. i breathe. cigarette city centres, lungs grey from the smog that settles over the ancient ro » Continue Reading