I want to ride
a big black cockerel, through
the flaming desert.
Sink into sand –
no-so-quick, stumble
into another dimension.
Kick
my cow-girl boots together

©

The paint was still wet,

and yet my hand went through the wall.

Into Orphee’s dreams.

That mirrored silence;

left in darkness.

©

reject mermaid,
desperate
for legs
to walk
and move
to be moved –
though,
she is all scales.

©

Bête Noire

Cracked and Open

I wrote a poem. A
Poem that wasn’t really
A poem. It was just
Scribbles of my scrambled life.
Brains like eggs on a hot summers day.
They eat them up, with yolk
Down their chins.
Fervour pinching at their gut,
To feed their endless hunger.
I’ve lost my hunger,
Appetite depleted.
To love, to breathe,
I long to be.
But I will never be.
Born a bad egg.

You Were Delicious

She Will Eat You Alive