the cat spray splash of stink n urine
spikes my face like a virgin with a Bloody Mary on a night out
as i crawl
limbs dangling
through the barefoot dirt
back to you.

my mind
her body
a contortionist made of constellations
bends to sit sleek
on the pavement.

and she waits.

and what a GOOD girl.

we pity the hound who does not know how to eat,
her gorging ribs laid bare
slick
with spit and hunger.
we pity her.
feed her.
RING the bell.

bleeding now, i rake my hands through flesh
and pull the crumbs of solitude i had been collecting
from my womb.

this here is my very sacred secret.
my hunger.
my rest.

i do not know how to distinguish the two.
again the bell rings
so i feast in the only way i know how.

i am a rotting carcass and you are the sun.
dry me out.
spit on me.
bring me back to life with dirty soliloquies—
and do it all over again.

and when i die
for the very last time
take my bones,
call yourself the poet,
and lay me to rest.

- i am sorry my words are so ugly for you.

bloody mary goes BOO

you are GOING to get eaten by a crocodile

If you find the simple joy in life you are going to get eaten by a crocodile.
If you eat crack and take pot your mother doesn't know what pot is.

Or crack.


Crack open your soul, you are going to get eaten by a crocodile.


Live life on a 6-foot bridge in ballet slippers. You will fall.
But not because you couldn't balance.


The newspapers will not choose a good photo anyway.


Find words and write meaning and write words and find meaning. And then find more words and write more meaning and vice versa.


Thoughts are endless. Use them.
Use it all.
Use it until you can't breathe.
And then use what's left.


Speak until your tongue goes dry.
Or someone cuts it off.


Ache beyond your yearning.
Smile beyond your tears.
Bite back and then learn to lick.


And
Always
Remember
You are going to get eaten by a crocodile.

- my grandpa taught me to never waste my food

soft girls guide to picking the perfect appetiser

I’ve kissed a lot of boys.

I offer my pallette, your tongue
to hungry vultures
who dine on
bruised collarbones and gin-stained cheeks
served on a silver platter.

I am a dish best enjoyed before the main course.
My flesh torn apart in the speckle of yellow light
Socks in a hallway
Dripping a bead of sweat
Across uneven eyebrows

And you are foolish enough to believe
That I am only yours to devour -
And yet you are always still hungry.

It seems in the hum of the night
Fickle words become treasure
To a starved girl who will always lust after
The fables you tell
To undress her.

But she will never believe you.
She is too clever to ignore your silver tongue
And the hunger in your eyes
You claim is love.

But you enjoy it.
So she lets you.

a letter to life and virgins

oh lovely life I often find myself sitting down to write to you
And then I find my pen has run out of ink -
I hope pens still exist in 50 years time ?
When we see digital trees through goggles
The money men tell us we should buy.
I will still love trees then
Even if I can't feel them
I'll capture the scent of nature's breath
In a bottle of perfume
And I will give it to young girls for free
I hope we never change
And yet I fear we never will.