i miss the child i was at 17.
i miss 17, i miss missing, i miss loving nothing.
i miss wanting to feel and not being old enough to get it yet.
i miss thinking i was emotionally literate.
i am still a baby, a kid, a viriginal chalice not yet ready to be drunk from.
there is no slow down, you crazy child when it comes to me.
my onlookers wince as i choo...
Wednesday 21st September 2022 10:32 pm
she died on the bathroom floor you know.
a cut on her ribs.
the rib borne from man,
killed the girl on the bathroom floor.
no one had kindness. no one had words of condolences.
only four pictures and a note,
only they proved someones love for her.
the things that made her beautiful,
an innocence lost,
a bleach blonde tangle,
and a vicious lover from a doomed...
Monday 6th June 2022 6:36 pm
Why I went back
A posthumous poem in the voice of Walter Tull – 28.04.1888 to 25.03.1918
Until you’ve been under fire
hunkered down in some funk hole
you’ll never know terror, the horror
or the damage to the soul
that just one barrage can do,
before you ever hear the whistle’s blast
that, sadly it’s true
for all too many,
signals this’ll be your last.
Friday 17th January 2020 6:44 am