i’m jealous of my heart, i wish i could hide behind bone and skin.

all i wanted as a young adult was cotton sheets until my friend told me about egyptian cotton sheets.

i base my purchasing history on the things i believe an invisible person, who judges my life, would be most pleased with.

i cannot check under my daughters bed for monsters because i am never entirely sure there will not be monsters under my daughters bed.

no matter how many drugs i took in my youth, if I brushed my teeth I would instantly feel more human again. I now brush my teeth three times a day but it no longer works.

i have been desperate for weeks to finish a poem with the lines ‘across the street, a gospel choir sings hallelujah’ but have yet to write anything worthy of that form of closure.

i wish i could tell you how scared i am.

i pretend to be a elitist loner but if social media didn’t exist i would have written ten times the amount of poetry as i have.

often you appear to me as different, inanimate objects;

• you as toaster
• you as gas mask
• you as trench coat
• you as leaf

 

i feel like soon i will need a youtube video to tell me how to breathe.

i cried for 45 minutes in the bath after reading a childrens book where a kitten died – the saddest part was that i was crying.

i frequently dream of taking amphetamines with james brown on an abandoned indoor ski slope in sheffield.

across the street, a gospel choir sing hallelujah.