January 15, 2015 § Leave a comment
The boys I have loved. Even the worst of them made me hot water bottles in the night, brought improvised snacks into bed.
They sorted out, they picked up, they dropped off.
They indulged flights of drama and dried tears.
They went after lost purses and rolled a thousand cigarettes.
They wrote letters, drew pictures, cooked dinners.
They lay with me on grass, on rocks, on planes.
They built fires, put out fires, fanned flames.
They had cats, mothers, little brothers. Square TVs from the 90s, TVs that went online. Striped socks, odd socks, socks I wore on my hands.
They bought me cider, shoes, a locket, a watch.
They came on foot, on a bike, in their mums’ cars without permission.
They shouted about boys, girls, money, drinking, work, rent, broken windows and writing on the walls.
They were banned for drink driving, damaged by absent fathers, babied by ever-present mothers.
They were heavy drinkers, hard rockers, light fingers pressing need in the dark.
They smoked Royals, Virginia, Drum, Thai stick, on Friday nights.
They went to school, went to college, went to uni, went to shit.
They got jobs, lost jobs, quit jobs, did jobs for a week.
They crashed cars, collected scars, got in fights.
They played scrabble, played guitar, played away.
They took me to the skate park, to Paris, to hospital, to hell and back.
They gave me red roses, bloody noses, confidence, cystitis.
They passed out, walked out, lashed out and found me out.
They were at war, at sea, at one with me.
They were all good boys.
December 11, 2014 § Leave a comment
Reduced to this sack of flesh,
bolstered only by the grim mechanics of
belated cosmetic attention.
I hate you. You’re not him.
This is a body dragged out to take his place.
That suit’s brand new, and without the pirate smile all I see is a stranger’s face.
Fuck you, I’m leaving.
He’ll be home when I get there,
Pouring wine on a school night.
That’s where he is.
You can all take your fucking
and screw each other with them.
They’re POISON to me and I want to kill every one of you.
Out, getting out.
Out into the light where I can smell our land.
Land of huge skies and pork pies,
where we love endlessly.
I’m not listening. Shut up.
He’ll be there.
He wouldn’t go on without me.
February 15, 2012 § Leave a comment
Do you hate Valentine’s Day? If so, go read my bitter old witch rant on Howl. It’s hateful and sarcastic but it’s what we’re all thinking.
September 2, 2011 § Leave a comment
This is a charming little game that Boyfriend and I were playing in bed last night and giggling over for at least two hours…
I love you so much I’d scrape off my irises to make you contact lenses
I love you so much I’d pull out all my teeth to make you a necklace
I love you so much I’d rip off my scrotum to make you a shower cap
I love you so much I’d skin myself to make you a handbag
I love you so much I’d cut off my foreskin to make you a head band
And so on.