my love

rotten creatures, full of pestilence and noise  run!  chase the last train away the last human with it, bring your nuisance here your mischief, your trickery sovereigns of the night the earth is yours, run circles round each other leave tracks upon the floor,  for the day folk to find and wonder the secrets of your tiny paws 

on the 6am train the men smell like my father; red bull, cigarettes, dried cement - they wake up like my father        i feel safe in this carriage, these men are my father, any man with a van and one arm out the window, sunburnt from the elbow down - the infamous builder’s tan - seats so dusty i can’t breathe and i have lungs like my father, full of second-hand smoke and concrete, a touch of asbestos, i should weep for my father        but  my pockets are healthy i am told by my father whose hands shake as he brings another beer to his lips at 10am on a saturday morning, this is coping for my father        these men cope - cope like my father - with the asbestos lungs, uneven tans, shaking hands, muscles in constant pain, water on the brain, the ever encroaching grasp of old age; with substances up the nose they unwind like my father         this kind of masculinity doesn’t last forever, you know...

 I can only write when I am thinking about God and sometimes God is God and he loves me, most of the time he does not the hand that feeds me overpowered by teeth that bite he visits me at night like a shark smells blood he smells lust,  guilt, and greed brought to my knees, voice hushed he picks apart my greed and my lust promising to forgive, to forget he will make me repent and regret, any pain or pleasure at his expense provided in selfless restoration a gift of his affections exchanged for endless loyalty  God is not always God, sometimes he is my lover he tells me he loves me,  most of the time he does not I can only write when I am thinking about God

my body is a place of worship  regularly desecrated, a basket of ripe fruit  circled by the starving, a lamb in the woods  smelled by the wolves, built to sacrifice to eat  to devour  until there is nothing left but bones lay me on the altar as abraham did to isaac  tell me this is gods work  that the knife you brought is heavy with the desires of your creator  who is this to satisfy? is your blood hot as you pray  would you look in my eyes, or at the sky  when the moment arrives, who is to blame?  my father, on earth  my father, in heaven my lover,  hands around my throat  so he may control my life and death  and play both  neither answer my cries nor feed me when hungry but i must be grateful because they love me so much  that they’ll punish my sins  and correct my foolish mistakes as though they are an extension of their own  as i am an extension of them  grateful even in death for the...

  and when i meet god   i will ask him why he punished me on earth by denying me the pleasure of being known by anyone other than him intentionally, innately, irrevocably known in a way i could have remained silent forever   whilst always being heard  i will ask him why the world kept spinning as i screamed and spiralled into the sins he’d laid out for me  for me to fumble in my guilt on my knees, raw from repentance and retribution who is to beg for forgiveness now? and i will apologise to my mother  for carrying her burdens in my womb  it was her first time too, on earth longing for something she’d never known  please tell me i did it right, that i made you proud  please tell me i lived how you wanted me to give birth to me again and i’ll try harder would it heal you to see me leave, or would it hurt because you never did  will i see your face one day in the mirror and touch it to feel your skin and i will ask you if you could not love...

1. when i walked out the door that final time my suitcase scraped the steps   as i dragged it reluctantly to the car i wonder if it left any marks  neither of us are there anymore  there is nobody to check  if the wheels dug themselves into the stone  the same way i dug myself into you  in one last ditch attempt to stay 2.  there’s god in sunlight and water  and the sharing of citrus fruits on a beach, on the riverbank  but i’ve never felt love like hearing you laugh  after a few glasses of wine  pink on your cheeks  and joy in your eyes i’d pray to the sound of your voice if it meant you would say my name one more time  3.  good times follow bad times and even worse times come after the most beautiful times but i could never have held enough of you in my hands to get through these truly terrible times and the lack of something is also the presence of something else so the absence of your lips on mine feels like a fir...

 it’s wine in the fridge and empty cupboards and stomachs  dead flowers in the vase  you can never go back!  nothing fits the same  it’s permanently the last week of august, everything is ending yet beginning and you must be ready for it  none of it will matter in the long run  your future depends on it you’re in the back of a cab in the middle of the night  head out of the window as you cross the bridge  it’s the last time you’ll make the trip under the circumstances  the air will always smell the same  he will follow you  one, two, three clementines for dinner  the peel stays in your room for a week  they keep the spiders away  the wine is empty and you use the bottle for fresh flowers but the dead ones are still in the vase  let’s go out tonight new city, old friends  your skirt and her top, her bag and your shoes  transferring from your savings again he’ll notice you but you’ll pretend not to s...

  june is hungry and youthful   she wants to be indulged amongst the darkness of a solitary spring sits the pink of orgasm flushed cheeks beautiful and naive entire worlds could be conceived, tonight  in lustful gluttony her juices will drip down the lips of her lover as they eat and eat and eat until there is nothing of the strawberry moon, only pure summer a perpetually gorgeous afternoon, love me for eternity, she says  or not at all  how quickly this warmth can turn even the stars into fools  devoid of all logic and reason in this most sensual of seasons

  it’s twenty two and sunny on the high road   we’re up by 7  and out the door by 11  there’s a man selling flowers on the corner and there’s a man selling flowers by the station and there’s a man selling flowers opposite the man selling vegetables  and everyone on the high road is also up by 7 and out by 11 so we fight for the last borek at the bakery and eat it outside everything is gorgeous and the church bells are ringing and you pose hypotheticals at me, like whether i’d survive the impending devastation of an apocalyptic scenario and i remind you how quickly i’d put a gun to my head at the slightest inkling of inconvenience as if i’d want to live without the boreks and the flowers and the twenty two degree british weather  that has sent everyone in london into a spin  there’s a dog in a pram and a baby on its toes taking its first steps down the high road  it stumbles past the book shop and past the man selling flowers by the pub towards the...

August 2021 what has heaven got that you couldn’t give me in a moment alone together in july with the windows open and the sun taking over the sky and nothing but a stream of thoughts floating in my mind like fresh water that can never find the opening at my mouth,  the problem is you’re close to me but not close enough this silence is loud enough for me to come to my own conclusions because you’re here but you’re not here and i’m looking at you but you’re not seeing me and how in my eyes you are golden and in yours im just plain yellow, i am aware i am catastrophically aware of myself and how this will end and how ill say sorry like a little girl i’m sorry let me be better next time if you’ll give me a next time but now it’s august and i’m scared there will never be a next time and now autumns here to break the spell of summer and i’m scared you’ll be gone with it like a leaf beneath my feet and i’ll carry you with me on my boots until the winter but god right now it’s still warm ...

  19/1/2023 my love for you is liquid in an overflowing glass that i can’t stop filling yet you won’t drink from it you tell me you’re not thirsty enough you’re not sure what you want to drink  maybe my love isn’t for you,  i beg you to drink what’s in the glass  it’s spilling  it’s in constant supply  it flows from my fingers and my tongue  i tell you you’ll never be thirsty again  if you drink from my glass, you bring it to your lips  ‘someone else may be thirstier’ you tell me  ‘someone who knows what they want to drink’ it may only overflow for you, i say  my love won’t spill for everyone creating pools in this way,  what’s wrong with what’s in my glass  that you can’t drink it  ‘nothing’ you say  ‘there’s nothing wrong with it, but you still can’t make me drink’  i’m drowning  you can’t hear me scream  you’re still thinking about it  toying with the idea  you dip a finger remembering...

1/11/2022   every evening in the kitchen i watch you cutting onions with tired eyes and heavy arms fresh from work cutting onions without being asked because they make my eyes water and i watch you so intently with such severity trying to communicate telepathically that i would do absolutely anything for you without question and without complaint if it meant a lifetime of watching you cutting onions in the kitchen after we’ve both finished work and arrived home in the dark to make dinner together for the hundredth time shoulder to shoulder with the big light off and the little lights on to watch the same shows cross-legged on the floor and again i look at you with full belly and warm heart my eyes finding the words my mouth can’t to say thank you for cutting the onions when you got home from work even though your arms are tired and eyes heavy even though i didn’t ask you to because you know they make my eyes water and i would do anything for you without complaint without question i...

  sitting across from you   at the coffee shop, at the restaurant  on the sofa on the bed a thousand things that could be said  or is there  does there need to be? you’re okay with silence  you float in it happily  whilst i drown, silently i need swimming lessons please teach me we’re here, but not really here, you’re somewhere else entirely  and i’m changing the colour of the sky  ignoring the predicted forecast even if it’s been right before  it’s blue if i say it’s blue you’re looking at me  but you’re not seeing me  if you did you’d see the sunrise  reflecting in my eyes  your face has a golden glow  that i put there every morning  which exists until they close heaven has nothing you couldn’t give me even if you won’t  i pretend i can’t hear the rain on the window  if i think loud enough  your heart will hear me  and you’ll speak  something reassuring  something to make me l...

 kafka captured love when he wrote how he wanted to hide his face in his lover until the world could no longer see them and they were one i would be content to disappear  from this world entirely because in the nape of your neck i have discovered a new one

 sometimes god calls me from a payphone he tells me there aren't enough trees he drops peaches and nectarines at my feet that aren't ripe enough to eat and tells me to wait sometimes his voice echoes through the underground sticking to the tracks telling me not now, not yet i see his face on strangers i've never met and friends i hardly recognise he reminds me about the trees there aren't enough i ask a question that he is still answering in prophetic dreams and the taste of the nectarines  sometimes god is in the pomegranate seeds that my lover shares with me lips bloody, unbruised he wipes my mouth clean before she kisses me he makes no apologies but i still forgive and plant the trees it'll be a while before i see them bloom maybe i never will but i plant them still

if we were put here to experience, to share fruit and look at the moon, to skim pebbles across open water and hope that summer is coming soon, you'll wish for snow every year just to complain that it's made your fingers far too cold again and ruined your day but when it's gone you'll miss it so enjoy it whilst you can because spring leaves no prisoners when she decides she wants to bloom and the cold will be gone just that little bit too soon, everything you can see and touch and taste was especially made for you to know this world personally on a first name basis to see it's many faces and kiss them all, impulsively, remember to look at paintings more than once until you notice something new maybe a new favourite colour or the beautiful eyes of another waiting to be noticed by you all those years later, time is a worthless indicator when connections can be formed through paint and ink for those who used to write and smile and think  just like us, right now, look in...

i knew where everything was in your kitchen, there was intimacy in that, i think placing myself amongst the clutter being one of your many things i'd browse your mugs  and write my name on your fridge in tiny magnetic letters so you'd always remember where i'd been i adored it, honestly everything in that red triangle house belonged to you at least partly,  including me shoes scattered across the hallway big black boots, loose laces, and my h&m flats this house was lived in, nobody could deny that it was cosy, vibrant and homely lovers scattered across the floor friends sat everywhere, blocking the door some of my favourite memories were in rooms full of people i'd never previously met, and i'll confess it was strange sometimes trying to put names to faces or words in mouths but your face would always stick out smiling in the crowd like sunshine amongst clouds, kissing you was like kissing the sun it was hot and hesitant more golden than gold you'd take me u...

  in case you ever foolishly forget; i am never not thinking of you nor is my heart ever not yearning for the comfort of your presence  as vita told virginia all those years ago words burned into the hearts of lovers you’ve reduced me to a thing of wants a foolish creature and a desperate one please, release me it’s been painful for an eternity i miss you endlessly more than i could have imagined  yet it doesn’t need repeating you know everything already you’ve always been far too clever,  beautifully clever whisper something sweet to me something wise, something wild plant seeds and watch them grow  until i’m able to finally know how the world looks through your eyes, maybe colours will seem brighter and the air more satisfying to breathe if i knew how it felt to love the way you do and be loved, the way you are, in the future someone will read these words and adore them in the same way we adore theirs, perhaps they’ll adore us too and be inspired to love human...

  a thousand tiny windows have gone by stacked higher and higher into the darkened sky until they look like stars, lonely clusters of constellations the hushed ambience of quiet conversation blends gently with the humming of the carriage  the repetition beautiful and endless every minute both personal and precious  yet shared with so many  the unrivalled bliss of complete anonymity  in this moment i am anybody, everybody and nobody the air is rich with mystery brief eye contact with a stranger multitudes bloom in oceans of blue,  green, and brown what unexpected peace i have found through the glance of another  a thousand more hours i would suffer below blinding screens and cancellations  forgotten tickets, and commiseration because anywhere is better than where i am right now i’ll travel to the end of the earth to escape my own thoughts when they fill my head and begin to spill and pool around my feet but they cannot compete with the encompassing...