Feed me my cracked heart I scoffed the soot, I drank it all Churned it all. Burned like ash, Breathed like earth, Cracked like hearth. Peeling. Hollow. Find me, A sharpened knife A daggered grave, An endless grief. Straining. Hollow. Advertisements
The guy sat next to her on the bus. The journey ahead was long, 12 hours overnight. He took out his phone and googled “How to speak to a hot girl”, after a quick glance at the search results he added “on the road”. Glossed over the results again, erased the last three words and… Continue reading Bus
Not everything should make you happy. Not everything should make sense. Not everything has a point. Not everything should make you happy. Not everything should make you happy. Not everything should make you happy. …make you happy, …make you happy. …make you happy. And that’s fine.
On the fifth day of the great binge I looked at myself in the mirror. I had just woken up, late in the afternoon. Dishevelled face, bags under the eyes, splitting headache,messy hair, aching muscles, a twitching brain and wobbling joints – not mentioning how bloated I felt, the abdominal aches and the fluttering in… Continue reading Shear