Monday, 21 December 2015

Out of the Blue

Once, all within a second
I was hit with a flash of blue
Came the thud, the crack, the brace
I awaited my unity with cold metal
Just carbon spilling into carbon
Like long lost friends
Instead, the shattering glass
it rained over me like stars
I had never felt so soft
I felt the weight of the temporary bury itself in my side
The music had gone

I opened my eyes to all colours of life, mine to keep,
if only for a little while more.

And I decided,
a little while is enough.

Saturday, 12 December 2015

Grey Days

I walk through pockets of emptiness,
Open fields of yellow grass, trampled
I am half asleep, half awake on some bluelit morning
I didn't know nothing could weigh so much
My shoulders ache
The days are just spaces to be filled
Eyes shut, eyes up
Time passes like time does, and I feel nothing
Music just sounds like notes and chords, a little tune
I feel nothing
My cog-like hands turn the wheel, I steer my life without thought
who knew existing could come so naturally
My mind is greater than my thoughts that fill it
I think about the implications of this as I drive
Pull up my car on some ordinary road
Take off my shoes, sleepwalker,
Life stalker
I walk in all directions
Trying to find a way out of my head

Thursday, 26 November 2015

Stem Cell

Age 23 I let myself feel true happiness
at 24 I could summon it in an instant
Age 25 I let myself feel true pain
at 26 I hope to be able to withstand it

Monday, 2 November 2015

Two Roads

She felt the road turning beneath her. It had been uneasy inside her for years, and finally she was at the split - eyes ahead, two feet on the ground. Two possible lives, hazy in the distance. She could either grip someone else hard for the rest of her days, someone who liked having her imprints embedded in their skin; or she could just let it all go. Some of the road alone, a few miles with him, a mile with someone else, maybe. Him and someone else.
I stood for a moment, quietly mourning the loss of one life.
And I let my fingers loosen.

Sunday, 1 November 2015

Love: Redefined

Lately, I've been thinking about LOVE. Kind of.

To speak more broadly, I've been thinking about not being in love, about mistaking attachment for love, about validation through love, pretty much every scenario that avoids actually loving someone for the person that they ARE, and rather 'loving' them for what they can bring to you.

Why is this, Rosie? I hear your mind mumble. Thanks for asking. Well.

When it comes to life, I am running the show. You want to see someone with stars for eyes, and feet that can walk on air when I hit those highs? Come right over. Business? Sure - but I know the important difference between true success and society's definition. Technically I have both, though the latter is worthless. Amazing friends and people? They stream in and out of my days beautifully. My friends are like a fresh packet of rainbow crayons in my childlike palms - a beautiful balance of all the colour. Some are batshit crazy, some are unmovable in their logic, some are middle aged mothers and fathers who have lived the norm, some are ageing, smiling hippies who tell me stories of Red Indians in Vegas. Some take drugs to explore their fascination with their minds, some do not. Some bring out my inner dance queen, some I can sit and cry with, be heavy with.  Some work in my local McDonalds drive thru, some own mansions in London. But they are all good people, and I like to collect good people with their good intentions like a Goodness Connoisseur. There are no expectations, I don't require their "Happy Birthday"s or text replies or company... they just need to be out there. And, if they grow and change - then I want to know about it, so the Good people can teach me, and I can learn.

But, love. Fuck.

I'm gonna thank Society for this mess, this tornado. I, like most others, raised in a society which breeds low self esteem, low self worth and a presumed shared "goal" for our lives: Marriage, kids, mortgage. Nothing wrong in wanting those three things, but man oh man that combination has created chaos for me...

Between the ages of birth-23, I believed people would only love you if you were worth something. Any man could and would have sex with you, but falling in love with you would prove your worth. I looked for validation in many ways, never questioning why I needed it in the first place, why I thought I didn't have it in the first place. I looked for security in my anxious future, because that was the Ultimate Validation. I was never falling in LOVE with any of these men - I was attaching to their company, their validation of me, my false projections of who they could be, what we could be. I was looking for happiness in the future - when I held the Three Cards of Fulfilment. *vomit*

So, what changed?

Ironically, I fell in love. Actual love. It was totally unrequited, and that was okay. In fact, this was just wonderful. Because I learned that I didn't need to own this person romantically to enjoy their benefits. And I don't mean sexually, I mean mentally - he had a mind that was unfathomably deep, wild and free spirited. I would describe it as all the colours you could ever be mesmerized by, all concentrated in one place, in one body. Needless to say, I was totally and utterly captivated. I could have listened to him talk all day and all night. I just wanted to sit and listen to him. Dip my fingers in his soul and paint with all his colours. I learned, through falling in love with someone's soul, and being denied attachment, that this love was far more pure than everything else I had mistaken for love previously.

It was at this point that I began taking an interest in the world that lay at my feet, when I began to take pride in myself, my hobbies, I grew my own validation. I planted seeds of self worth through reading, learning, kindness and fleeting joy, and I lay back in pure wonder and ecstasy as I watched it grow. I became confident. I started writing, and I didn't share it - I didn't need the validation anymore.

However, the heart and the mind are separated by veins, bones and a whole lotta blood. And sometimes, even though you know this new mindset is "you" and who you are growing into, old habits die hard, man!

I've tripped up a little, I've attached to people with the hope they might inoculate me against this difficult tug of war within myself. I've attached to people to quieten this old ache inside of me, which emits a low, desperate hum of insecurity. That hum is getting ever quieter, and right now I'm in a wonderful state of transition (are we ever not?) in the process of truly becoming myself - fully self-validated, fully confident, fully whole.

Security is not something that can ever be promised.
People are never finished beings, they are like rivers. Do we look at rivers and proclaim "Hey! You're flowing wrong! What the hell!?" Nature grows how it grows. So do we.
People don't owe you ANYTHING. Even if they've promised it to you. You're naive if you expect them to keep it. And that's quite okay, too. You can be naive.
If you become aware of why you "love" (or attach) and why you "need" - you can understand and grow.

Growing is a process. First, learn. Then, understand. Once you understand, you can practice. Practice enough, you will believe. Then finally - you become. Just call me Yoda.

And so, I am so beautifully alive on this bright autumnal morning. I am listening to brass bands play my favourite musical scores. My cat is curled up by my feet as I lay down these thoughts, and I am peaceful, I am happy. I know I will be sad again, but for now, this happiness is mine to enjoy. I am in love with life - all the light and all the dark that comes with it. I just want to sit and listen to it, all day and all night.
I just want to dip my fingers into it, and paint with all its colours.

Wednesday, 28 October 2015

The Lightness

I should also mention
that although there is this Darkness
It could not exist without the Light
which tingles warmly in my fingertips
and spills out from the corners of my mouth
honey on my tongue, Honey
It's brass bands in an autumn chill
rock music playing in a hospital ward
It's the feeling the symphony was composed to describe,
that crescendo
that ultimate note
and the peace that follows as my hot human blood
simply turns to running water

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

The Darkness

On the clear days, it's so small - that sometimes I'm not sure it exists at all. It's hunched, like a field mouse, manageable and harmless in a corner of my mind. Its tiny claws are rolled up tight, no need to worry today. The light is beaming fiercely. I am happy, I am me. This is good, so good...

I don't know what stirs it. Some restless part of me that takes a long bony finger and jabs at it.

Once. The field mouse looks up with wicked eyes, two shots of blackness on a dark and cloudy page.

Twice. It agitates and shrieks, snapping it's jaws, dripping darkness.

Thrice, and it swallows me whole. The darkness unfolds, spilling black ink all over. My thoughts dart and stumble, looking for dry ground, an exit is unfathomable now. The ink begins to fill my mind, as I realize once more I must brace for the flood, hold my breath, and hope it passes quickly.

I'd like to tell you that I was out, under, gone. That I didn't remember what came next. But the reality of the darkness is that somehow time slows, frantically examining my mind for the answer. Why is it in me? Why won't it leave? It isn't a sadness, or a depression. It has no shape. Just a manic pacing, a mind that refuses to be still. The person I am becomes a prisoner to my thoughts, I don't identify myself within it.

I tried to distract my creature with TV, news and people. I offer it coffee. Take it for a walk. Try to stamp it out quietly. I've shown it to some in hopes they might cure it, most of them run. Writing helps. I begin not to care about rhyme. I cough the ink up onto the page. "Better out than in!" My mother says.

Sometimes hours, sometimes days. It leaves eventually, I'm shaken and vulnerable - but I remind myself that your embrace is not the answer. Its grip on my mind loosens, the darkness drains back somewhere deep inside my self.

Perhaps it will shrink to nothing one day. The smallest Russian Doll in the stack of "me".
I read back my writing, I don't recognise it.
I check the weather forecast, clear all week.

Monday, 26 October 2015

The Dancer

Frustrated, the man looked down at his feet
Stubborn and still to the drum of the beat
Heavy and grey, they stood glued to the floor
Anchored with veins to a heart that cried "more"
Each day it would wail with gusto, emotion
To swallow the rhythm, like a boat needs the ocean
He felt it within him, his fingers lay twitching
in a hospital bed, his whole body was itching
His language was fluent, a waltz if you will
In fact, looking back, it was never stood still
The life in his eyes, now that was a thing
to be seen, as they spun into Swing
My heart felt so warm as we tangled our bodies
into tango, now slowdance, our new favourite hobbies
Until winter rolled in like a blue-lit ballet
His feet remained chained, he looked down in dismay

"Oh why can't I dance?" He smiled, hopelessly.
"Must be your shoes," I laughed back
"'cause you've been dancing with me."

Monday, 19 October 2015

The Summit

Understanding my darkness was reaching the summit of a great, stormy climb. Weak and cold, I approached clarity. The clouds began to part, the skies began to clear. My eyes were flooded with sunshine, my feet were greeted with flat earth. I dropped to my knees with tears rolling down my cheeks. I asked "What now? Is this happiness?"
And a kind voice inside me replied "For now."

Sunday, 18 October 2015


We drove three hundred miles one night,
The roads were all just different shades of black
My mind at 70mph
Something about having my hands on the wheel paired
with feeling so out of control, feels like therapy to me
I'd felt it building in my throat for days. Some darkness,
like thick tar lodged in my windpipe
I wretched it all up that night,
there in my hands
out of my heart
I lay it down,
made sense of it
and carried on driving.

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

I write

I write because I don't understand. Something about laying the words down in front of me, helps me to understand better. I write about love because it is the one question I don't have an answer to, the flavour I can't place, the missing card in my full set. When it comes to love, I don't know how. I either squeeze too tight and kill it fast, or run - run hard until my lungs are empty and all I can feel is my heartbeat pounding and blood filling the empty places inside of me. I am best when I am alone, when you are at arm's length. Or not here at all. I fall asleep easily without you here, my bed sheets and memories remain unstained for now. There are no songs which remind me of you, or streets, or scents. I am whole, I am happy, I collect the days and press them into chapters of heavy books to keep for myself. My kingdom is illuminated with every sunrise, I leave the ivy untrimmed to climb the walls. I like it that way. No one to impress, no one to trim my edges.

And when I feel my heart begin to attach, I panic. My mind floods. I'm out of control, driving on an unfamiliar highway. How wonderful it would be to enjoy the spinning for once, rather than bracing for the crash and the burn...

Wednesday, 7 October 2015

The Fall

I've come to realize love, for me, was not a smooth, gentle fall
No fluffy clouds or ballet jumps, toes pointed, eyes ahead
I was never going to glide gracefully into his arms
But I was going to clatter down a staircase
With the chaos of a road rage Carnival
Shattering the parts of me I needed
Bruises on my head, my spine
would break, and snap
Just like my words.
and like my heart
This was going
to be serious,
and this was 
going to

Monday, 21 September 2015

Conversations from my past

"I could get lost in you." He said.
"Don't." She replied. "I'm a whirlpool."

Monday, 7 September 2015

7th September

Today, I feel great. My tornado mind has died down, and I've cleared the mess it left behind.
Watching yourself shatter and scatter is a strange thing to see - the quiet aftermath even more so. Sometimes I feel that no sentence could hold all the words that I have lodged in my throat, those heavy words that slid down from my mind so defiantly, enjoying watching me choke and stutter.
And sometimes, on days like these when the leaves dance on the trees, and the September air smells like a thousand hues of green, it pulls me to my living room window like a cartoon character being led by the nose to the waves of the pie cooling on the kitchen table. It tugs on my sleeve and whispers in my ear; "let me in". And I do. Every time, I do. Tonight, I opened up my window and inhaled those greens, I breathed in the scent of mountains and memories so deeply that I wondered if my lungs would sprout flowers. And there in that moment, I realized, that my weakness wasn't ever loving you. It was loving feeling alive.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

I built my Kingdom from the dust of a crumbled soul
poured and merged with salt water, some unpalatable strength
hardened those walls into cement
forty feet high.
I don't think you understand my happiness,
my safety net is old and frayed at the edges now
So please don't ask me to climb to the attic
in the home I built alone with bleeding hands
deep in my dusty Kingdom
and jump.

Empty Stomach

I'd felt this feeling before
this hunger
a deep rumbling for more
Like a grateful dog beneath the table
at the feet of your throne
I begged for the scraps of you to keep me satisfied
Please, please sir
Feed this beast inside of me
Keep her quiet
She's so hungry

Monday, 31 August 2015


“My emotional life: dialectic between craving for privacy and need to submerge myself in a passionate relationship to another.” - Susan Sontag


I always thought that becoming self sufficient was the greatest feat, the highest climb a person could make. What could be more challenging than building a life for yourself that excludes the validation of others? That extinguishes the cravings of having someone truly see you, understand you, and love you? I've grown content in joy and the daily humming of life, no other person to upset my balance, no other heart to nurture but my own. "I could do this for the rest of my life" I've thought, "I'm finally happy."

But as the days slip by and people drift in and out of the river that is You, I began to realize that maybe the greatest feat isn't being self sufficient at all, maybe the hardest thing to learn to do is to love someone else.

There are days and weeks when this is easy, when falling in love with a sparkling mind and strong hands feels like second nature, as though him and I were always just two branches growing from the same tree. I am happy - content to be parallel lines with him, as our eyes meet and blush on the opposite sides of the car.

Then there are the dangerous days, the days when I want myself.

I barricade the door, no reason or argument preludes this. I lock myself up and shut it all out. Like a switch, all that love just flips from "on" to "off". It thunders through my arteries and into my lungs, and I exhale every little bit of it out into the air - what took months to nurture and grow vanishes in seconds.  I hold myself, my life, my Kingdom tight to my chest like an upset child clings on to a blanket, fingers gripped so fiercely I could be set alight and not flinch. Like a dragon guarding her cave, glowing cinders spit from my mouth as I roar in anguish. Who DARES trespass inside ME?!

Of course, you will not see this. On these days, you might notice me go a little quiet. I might disappear for a walk, play different music. I take care of myself, and will return when I am better.

And so I sit here with stones in my chest and my head heavy in my hands. How are you supposed to love? Do I accept and embrace and forgive and treat this person like I treat all the empty others - those who I don't require their affection or validation? Or do I submerge myself so deeply in them that I lose all of my control, that they become as much a part of my being as my very own soul, that the thought of them leaving leaves me paralysed, holding on to a drowning man - installing my very own Self Destruct button straight into their hands? Neither feel right.

Learning how to love is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. 
I have no idea how to do this.

Friday, 28 August 2015


As summer collapsed into autumn
I was reminded
That there is no life without death
No light without darkness there first, silently
tapping his long fingers
No love without loneliness
And the distinct and
sudden realisation
that absolutely nothing is mine
to keep

Wednesday, 26 August 2015

The Architect (Part 1)

Between us was a faint glass. I watched him coyly over the coming months; noticing his hands, and the way they twitched. They were strong looking hands, but they were clean - I sometimes wondered if he ached for the pencil residue on his skin the same way I ached for his hands on mine.
The way he spoke to me, words softly planted in my ears, Sweetheart. I knew he was an artist from the way he spoke. Each day he coloured me blue with those words, in that voice, Little One. My chaotic mind began to unfold. He lay it down with those clean hands of his, looked at me with excited eyes, like I was undiscovered blueprints begging to be made sense of. He lay me down so gently and so surely, not quest nor challenge, just his favourite pastime.
And he began to draw.
Once a day, sometimes twice, he sketched the foundations of us. First began the digging; rooting up the soil of my past, and his, getting deep into my core, into my thoughts. I didn't like this. Dirty hands in my dirty soul, in corners that hadn't been touched before. What if my soil wasn't good enough quality for the fine house he could build? What if my ground wasn't stable? I'm the first to admit I have stones and boulders deep down there, at times I've felt the pain gush through my veins so heavy that I could give way any minute. And still I let those hands inside me, flinching as I felt them brush past my insecurities.
He was always gentle when he explored me, into the ruins of past houses I'd tried to build alone. I watched him with intrigue, as he opened up each crevice and laid down the new foundations, as though he'd been inside me a thousand times before. With each conversation we grew closer and stronger, the glass between us became fainter, it was clear he was no longer a visitor here.

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Something New

After living one too many days of routine, I start to feel like I've been underwater for too long; lungs steadily filling with water. The restlessness. My feet start to kick, craving whatever is above the surface. Spend too long in the deep dark, and your soul starts to dim alongside it.

There are certain remedies for a dimming soul, and I truly believe the first to be Newness.

Get up at a different time. Wake up at 4.30am, when it feels as though the world is still rocking in a deep slumber, and it's just you and the universe. Walk out of your doorway, leave your orange-glow porch for the burnt amber streets. Your mind hasn't mapped this place before, even though you've stood here a thousand times. And when you breathe, really breathe. It smells like a foreign but familiar place, in a foreign yet familiar time - maybe somewhere in your muddled childhood. You inhale with a shade so deep, you almost believe that if it travels far enough inside you, it might just transport you right back to that moment you'd misplaced. And instead, a new moment forms.
Go walk through a ghost town, race the sun to explore the corners first. Facing the dark side of the solar system has always been romantic for me, everything is painted in human nature, human convenience. A canvas you can walk inside, unintentional art. Standing quietly everyday, unacknowledged. Just how it likes to be.

When my soul begins to dim, I go somewhere new. It dusts the cobwebs from my eyes, washes the mould from my rotting mind. Newness is an antibiotic you can't develop resistance to, fresh eyes clean from the washing basket in your mother's bedroom. I built my memories on the foundations of the chords from the songs I'd never heard before, there's a reason you cry when it plays so many years later. There's a reason why that perfume makes you think of him, there's a reason why life once felt so big - once upon a time. When it was all so New.

Wednesday, 19 August 2015


You kissed me and filled my mouth full of spiders. And every time I thought of you, they effortlessly spun poetry from my tongue..

Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Wild Girl

Wild Girl
You stand small in the wind
Eyes like whirlpools
Hair unpinned

Wild Girl
What is it
that makes you run?
I know your shoes can't hold your feet any longer
They're raw at the sole

Wild Girl
I didn't catch your name
Your shadow didn't hang around
But your reflection lingered in my mind

Wild Girl
I've longed for you for years
Kept you in my small cramped dark
Paying for my fears

Wild Girl
You move like a river
Dirty feet, grass stained clothes
Freckles of chaotic constellations

I turn around in my doorway
And look back at myself
I always knew who I was
Who I was born to be

Wild Girl

Thursday, 13 August 2015


Undressing for men
I didn't love
Was easy, fast and grey
But with him
I must undress my terrified soul
Let him gently pull the loose threads
Dangling at my waist
Knowing I could unravel in an instant
back into the chaos I once was
Let him ease the zipper
and glimpse the scars
of past mistakes, those defining moments
It's hard not to have regrets
When so much hurt caused so much growth
When strong hands held me
And squeezed the life right out of me
The dried blood under his fingernails
that once pumped through me
that rushed to my heart
made my knees weak
and my soul collapse
I undressed for him, once, too.

Saturday, 1 August 2015

A Recipe for Being Single

We go through life alone. Eternally in our own heads, eternally stuck in this one body that we didn't choose and can't swap out. Every person in the history of people has been alone their entire lives, and yet somehow the world has convinced us that we are in need of something - someone - else. My other half, my soul mate. 

You Are Not Alone

Around a year ago, I'd finally read enough poetry to realize this wasn't true. I was single, and I was whole. I filled up my days with learning, documentaries, friends, laughter, reading, adventures, thinking.  On Facebook I see friends hurdle from relationship to relationship, I look back at how I so desperately craved someone to validate my worth by loving me. I want to tell them, I want to go back in time and tell myself that I am already capable of being whole - no other half missing.

I've had a year of wholeness. I've had men come into my life and into my bed and my heart hasn't awakened. Not for want of hopefulness - but I realized that I cannot bend for people any more. Someone is either a perfect fit, or they are someone else's entirely. I'm still not sure whether it's a good thing to be able to switch off and shut down so easily... as they say, to avoid vulnerability and to avoid feeling is to avoid life, and miss out on the one thing that makes us human. 

That said, on the other side of the coin... I feel freedom for the first time! I can finally plan a life that I feel excited to live, and wake up every day to. There is no pain, there are no bruises on my skin or on my heart. With the exception of the possibility that I'll want children one day, there is absolutely nothing stopping me from carving out a life entirely my own, and enjoying every single moment I was given. 

The Painter

So, here is my Recipe for Being Single.

1) Validate yourself, don't wait for someone else to validate you.

Your self-worth is so important. First off, if how you look ranks highly on your self worth, then by all means - throw yourself into the gym, the salon, the tanning booth - do whatever it takes to make yourself feel happy when you look in the mirror. BUT. Facewipes will wipe, and water will wash, and one day we're all gonna get old. It's great to feel beautiful, but it's even better to get your self worth from things like intelligence, kindness, talent and depth. And best of all, these are things you can know about yourself without having anyone else need to approve it! Be kind to people, let people in when you're in traffic, open doors, ask a cashier about their day. Be patient with people when they are upset, have a joke with someone in a bad situation. And then you can say... I am kind. And kind people don't deserve anything special and don't win any prizes in life, but man it feels good to be kind. 

2) Design a life you want to live

I'm a next-weeker. Next month I'll do this. This summer, I'll go on all these adventures. Next year I'll go travelling. And it comes around, and hey look - I'm sat on my phone swiping through tinder looking for someone to do it all with. This had to change.
I think it's human nature to want a partner, a witness to your life. For me, I wanted so badly to bring the magic I had found and to pour it into someone else's eyes... who knows what for. But, as we refer to paragraph 1 - we're going through this trip alone regardless. 

So I stopped planning, and ran up the hills behind my apartment and through the fields. The amount of times I have cried with sheer overflow of magic, feeling and humanity on these runs alone is hard to count. To be alone is to be human, and to belong deeply to yourself is the most incredible thing you can ever own. These runs gave me the ability to travel alone, to eat alone, to walk myself home alone at night and, most importantly, to live my life alone.  People who are excited to live their lives don't deserve anything special and they don't win any prizes in life, but man - it feels good to be excited to live.

3) Kisses aren't contracts

It sounds cruel and unfeeling, but learning to see every budding romance as something that will come to an end has helped me hugely in my quest for wholeness. I set my standards for my suitors high, but my expectations very low. This did not leave me disappointed. Instead, weirdly, I'm now on good terms/good friends with all the guys I've dated, and my heart didn't get injured one bit. People are human, they will not always love you, even if you're fucking awesome. You will not always love them, even if they're fucking awesome. Being strong doesn't mean you deserve anything special, and strong people don't win any prizes in life. But man, it feels good to be strong. 

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you this poem:

After a while you learn the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning,
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses are not contracts,
and presents aren’t promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead...
With the grace of a woman,
not the grief of a child.
And you learn
To build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns
if you get too much…
So, you plant your own garden,
and decorate your own soul...
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
you really are strong,
you really do have worth.
And you learn, and you learn…
with every goodbye,
you learn.

4) And finally

When you do give you heart to someone, after you have spent all that time on your knees, gluing the broken bits of your heart back together. There will be no red flags. There won't be quiet police sirens in the distance, the smell of smoke will be one you don't even remember. Because when you are finally whole, when you truly love being alone, when you belong so deeply to yourself that sometimes it hurts, that's when there isn't room for anyone but the right person. And if the clock strikes the midnight in your life, and they haven't shown up, you'll know they were there the entire time, looking right back at you in the mirror. 

Whole people don't win any prizes at life. But man, it feels good to be whole.


Shut Down (It was all in my head)

We were dancing in my living room
Whilst she sat quietly in the corner,
I didn't notice her for spinning
I think I was somewhere underneath your tongue

Friday, 31 July 2015


When my mind rattles inside this body
My thoughts ricochet like a rubber ball, locked in a wooden box
I've read this page before.
The colour begins to drain from this room
"I do not need you, I do not need you" I repeat, I repeat.
The music does not sit comfortably in my ears tonight,
Words don't rhyme or form
I'm a fever - there's iron in my blood.
I smell like gunpowder.

I pass you the lighter, say "go on, do your worst"
Drenched in my past, sweat it out first
Eyes awake - wild, childlike and open
Clench them both shut and await my explosion

And with two arms around my shoulders
You wrap me up tight
Squeeze out the heaviness
Until I am light

A cold compress upon my mess
Damp eyes, soft on the floor
Extinguished out, I breathe the words

"I'll always love you more."

Monday, 20 July 2015


The way he loved me
was foreplay
teased and searched every corner
of me
searching for forgotten holes
to fill with ecstasy
and his kisses
plunged his fingers
deep inside
my mind
and gripped,
so I wouldn't forget
how he felt
inside my head

Monday, 6 July 2015

Like That

I lay with my hair tied down
Insects carry themselves across my arms, mountains
an orchestra of tiny limbs
marching, humming from the ground
I open my eyes to the Big Blue
Then I shut them and the world drops dead
and no one to pick the spiders from my head
Left alone to spin and sew
mind constellations which come and go
Spin me, spin me back into a child
With laughter spilling from my eyes
I roll and the silence sweeps in,
I taste the honey
and I think
this life has always
been this sweet

Saturday, 27 June 2015

The Hard Days

On the hard days
When my bed is empty but the walls are not
Stained with us
When sleep wraps his arms around me
instead of yours
My mind is restless, just like that night
I must have known you wouldn't stay
On the hard days
I take the key I left for you
from under the doormat
Lock myself up again
Just for now

Sunday, 17 May 2015

An Ant In New York City

Being away from home for so long was like taking a long hot shower on a long cold day. Except the showers were actually cold, and the days were hot. In the afternoon sun, my clothes stuck to my body - I welcomed the dusty navy evenings with anticipation. There was something in the evening glow in my East Village bedroom for the night - perhaps it was the orange lamp by the bed, perhaps it was the faint mumblings of Simon and Garfunkel playing quietly beneath my sheets.

It had taken me a while to adjust to the magic of somewhere new - the first couple of days my music didn't sound right in my ears... Perhaps it was the strangers' eyes all over me in the streets, could they tell I wasn't from around here? Did I look like a tourist? Did my clothes look new, unworn? Perhaps I needed to venture out alone, in old jeans with pockets still filled with earlier memories...

I found the swing of things more when I spent the day in the garden. The pressure, when travelling, to see see see, and do do do - the days become so filled you can barely move. So I stopped moving. I stretched out my legs and let the ants crawl up some old metal chair and onto me, we formed a civil friendship. I thought about space, and those ants. Space ants from Planet Earth. Cool.

"How sad to be an ant..." I thought. Say we only have one life, there is no reincarnation... how sad to be an ant who knows nothing about the wonders of this life, how sad to be an ant who only lives around 45 days - lest he be squashed flat by some fumbling bumbling human before his time. How sad to be an ant who can never understand the depths of this song, this city. How sad to be an ant.

And yet, here I am - an ant in my own right. Perhaps there are some other beings in another galaxy far, far from my garden and far from my fellow ant friend and I, just sunbathing together in New York. Perhaps these beings live their realities far more beautifully than I could ever imagine, perhaps there are sights and sounds and songs that would cause my eyes to widen and never shrink back. I wonder, I wonder about all these things I can and never will know, because I am just an ant, passing through in this body - this soul vessel that I really had no choice or control over regardless. Perhaps it is not that bad to be an ant after all.

I flexed my toes and tilted back my head and let the sun soak into my shoulders.
The day I did nothing at all was a fabulous day, indeed.

Monday, 20 April 2015


"Planemo; n. A stray planet with no sun to orbit. It was ejected from it's solar system while forming by other planets' gravitational forces."

I am a planemo.
A rogue soul,
Cosmic wanderer;
A body flung from home

I am alone.

'neath my feet the Universe, she breathes
In my eyes she groans, she sighs
And grip my seat

I could feel my heart beat

The stars were emptied onto fields
that day
I picked them like flowers,
to watch them decay

It's better that way

And deep in the black soot dusted night
there, in the corner of my sight
I see you wandering, I feel your breathing
with nothing stopping you from leaving
A thousand million miles away

So close together,
but Alone we'll stay.

Friday, 27 March 2015

Tonight I Felt Alive

The nights I feel alive, are when laughter fills the halls outside my door. The nearly-summer air climbs through the window; I close my eyes. Chinese food, cold, on the floor. But there, in the corner - I can smell burnt out camp-fires, lingering like some old burnt out heart. Smouldering and ashy, the morning after the night in the wild. To my left, musicians are dancing in the background blur of an old barn, I think I went there in a book once. The sound of metal wings hurtles through space. "Now" becomes "Then". These are the nights of my youth, the nights I felt alive.

Monday, 2 March 2015

How To Be Successful

How To be Successful

The definition of success is all wrong, is skewed and twisted and it's tricking humans everywhere into thinking that their lives are incomplete. Success is a bear trap in a forest overflowing with bears - everyone gets bitten. Ears prick up at the mention of it, it's a thirst that can't be quenched. A cut of meat so good, yet so expensive... and we all want a bite.

Here's what I've realised.

Society nurtured me into thinking that success was money, in all shapes and forms. Maybe it was a beautiful, well-kept house. Maybe it was waking up every morning without a worry in how you are going to pay your bills, provide for yourself and your family. Success was soft fabric wrapped around my skin, that whispered: "Don't you want me?"

Success is a carefully woven web, designed to trap and motivate you into a life spent wanting that next thing. Success is approval of the masses, success is being pretty enough, sexy enough. But don't worry - if you weren't born that way, like most of us weren't; you can always buy, buy, buy. Work, consume, work, die.

It all started dawning on me a year ago, after a break-up. I'd felt unhappy, unfulfilled. I'd assumed this was down to the relationship being a wrong fit, so I left. My life was maths, and I deducted the odd number and thought I'd be left with something positive, something even.

But I wasn't.

My life revolved around my work, the Sun to my Earth. More than that, money was the gravity that made it all go. "Just take this job" I thought, and things will grow, and change and evolve and be better. And so, I made a decision to quit. I wanted OFF. I wanted OUT. Since I couldn't figure out what was wrong with my life, as I had so many reasons to be happy, I figured the only way was to throw my life out of the window and start from scratch.

Here's what I did.

1) I moved in with my parents.

Having wonderful parents who didn't ask me to pay rent while I stayed with them helped me hugely. It gave me a few months to work out what I was doing with myself, where I wanted to go. Financial pressures and commitments are some of the heaviest weights you can take on during your journey, and I would highly recommend against them. Success isn't your living situation. Drop your pride, screw the postcode. Imagine being able to live for free, or very little... appealing, huh?

2) I stopped taking on any paid work.

This was tough, because money is nice because you can buy things and do things. But I needed to let it go... my days were filled with computer screens with emotionless emails, chore after chore. I felt chained to my clients because they'd offered me money, I was bound by needing to have a good reputation... because successful photographers don't get bad reviews. Successful photographers make everyone happy, every client is the most important client in the world - no matter what time of night, no matter whether I'm crying from my break-up, no matter whether I'm wondering whether maybe life just isn't meant for me. It didn't matter if the skies were blue and the air blew warm against my skin, if gold fields beckoned, because I Am Successful. Don't you think I'm successful?

3) I remembered what I loved.

At first, when I made the decision to stop earning money, I was daunted by the empty days that lay ahead of me. My instinct with nothing to do was to be productive, organize a workshop or do some client work. But with nothing ahead of me, I forced my guilty self to make plans. Fun, I planned fun. It had been a while since I remembered what fun was to me - here's the list I made in the blog post I wrote at the time.

"Going for a walk
Going to the gym
Seeing friends
Putting music on and just enjoying it for a while
Looking out of the window without feeling guilty for not being productive
Being unproductive
Being productive
Shooting personal work which I enjoy
Stroking my new hair growth
Cuddling my cat"

Turns out, there is even way more fun stuff to do that even those things. I started to guzzle documentaries on space, wanting to know about my place in the Universe. What am I here to do? I'm pretty sure I wasn't given the incredible ability to perceive everything around me just so I could pay bills all my life.

My life turned. I wasn't successful, I was alive. I was running through the streets at 2am with rain hitting my face and violins booming in my ears. I was drunk, dancing and spinning and tapping my silver shoes, as I kissed a handsome stranger on a handsome street. I was soaking my mind in a bath, while my emails built up and up and up. I was devouring poetry and learning that the world was just as alive as my mind, while my phone buzzed and beeped. I ignored it. You can't buy me anymore, I don't want your money. I don't need your money. I need my time. I don't need to be successful.

I was driving with the windows down, exhaling carbon dioxide as song. I was learning to dance in my living rooms, while the neighbours looked on. I was free from the dungeon that had been unlocked all along.

And one day, after months of living, I broke down. It was my first ever happiness break down. I had gone to McDonalds to get some lunch, windows down and music up, as usual. The girl at the drive through looked at me, and smiled. She said, "Hey, it's you! Happy girl! You're everyone's favourite customer here. We love it when you come by." And I smiled inside and out. I loved seeing them, too. A lovely bunch of people, just trying to get by.
I got my food, and started driving back home. The sunlight was hitting my eyes in that way that it did, time was slipping by the way it did, and all of a sudden I just felt overwhelmed with love and pride. I was Happy Girl. I'd made it, I was finally the person I wanted to be all along. I parked up outside my cheap apartment in the cheap beautiful countryside, and broke down. I cried the way I'd cried a year before, broken and alone. But this time, I was crying with pure, pure joy. There aren't words to describe it. I wanted to drive back and hug that girl.

This is how to be successful.

Forget the money. Forget the likes, forget the beautifully decorated house in the countryside. Throw your life out of the window and start again. Because you only get one youth, one life, one chance at it all. There is space next to me for you in the grassy fields filled with gold, and I know this, because when I lie there as the sun is going down, no one is next to me. I always wonder where everyone is at 3am and the stars are white on an ocean of wonder.

But maybe they're too busy being successful.

Tuesday, 24 February 2015

I Am Heavy.

I Am Heavy.

For the most part - I am light. I am quick, nimble on my feet. My heart was born with a tap, labelled "happiness" - worn and torn over the years, sometimes empty, sometimes overflowing. Broken, and restored back into working order. My body is damaged, and will remain so, but my spirit is rose-tinted, Rosie-tinted if you will.

My heaviness remains - call it luggage, call it baggage, call it a burden, call it a blessing. Call it what you will, but it's present and tonight, my arms are aching.

I don't like to get into the personal specifics of my heaviness, because it's private and mine to bear. I've met other people going through the same circumstances, I've been lucky enough to help a couple, but I've never wanted to burden other people with mine. Perspective is my saviour, my religion is detachment from myself, and my circumstances. 

Tonight I learned a huge lesson, and that lesson is vulnerability. My heaviness is my own, and no one else deserves to have it thrust onto them to carry. I put myself and my fears and my walls before the importance of someone else, and in doing so, I pick up another suitcase.

I see a lot written about "Being Happy" and I'm a strong advocate for the pursuit of happiness - chase it, run after it until your legs are sore and your ankles bleed. When what cannot be said is wept, and when pain becomes concrete and real in your being, when it ceases to be emotional and becomes physical and unchanging, happiness is the only way to spread that heaviness. If I wasn't happy, I'd have so much heaviness I would be crippled. You have to lighten yourself to make room for the pain, leave the cracks open and sore to let the light leak in somehow. 

"You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
And meanwhile, the world goes on."

People say that a problem shared is a problem halved, or something like that. I don't completely agree. The support I've had from my close friends and family over the years has certainly been comforting - we've cracked jokes, laughed at my heaviness, decorated my baggage with pretty things and tried unpacking it and packing it in a different way, holding it in a different combination, but the weight remains the same. It's taken me years to jiggle it into a comfortable place. 

From today, I am going to be vulnerable. I'm swapping my heaviness out of the designer cases that made me feel better; more accepted as a person and in society, and putting it right back into the ugly old crumbling cases it came to me in. Sorry for the abundance of metaphors. 

This is me. I am flawed, I am heavy.

But I am also happy, I am light. I have a heart which is overflowing with happiness, and I have extra to share, if you want in? If you don't, that's okay too. I hope you have a life that's light, always. 

Sunday, 8 February 2015


She scrapes her skull down the side of the bath
Into a green world, Her green world

Gated ears, well-oiled and sprung for the flood
Drowned out the world deeper than she ever could
Sweet intentions stitched lightly, nimble and bold
Between his hands and her mouth
Down his shoulders, now cold

All those in-between moments, the commas - the pause
When I heard the rain, but you heard applause
The alternate endings, are they kept somewhere?
I wouldn't mind looking, but you're up in the air.
I've run out of room to put all these thoughts.

The replay button is broken on the sound of his laugh.
As she scrapes her skull down the side of the bath.