The Circus Children

Sometimes you cry in your sleep, like you're dreaming of a memory you'd rather forget. You touch my hips like they could break, and kiss my fingers when you're sad. I can't make you better; you're fucked for good. I like that you touch me like I'm delicate, like you're scared that your fingertips will rub away at my skin and muscle until all you're holding is bones. I wish that I could keep you, but you're a wildcat with jagged edges sharp enough to draw blood. No one can have you. Not even me.

The Elephant In The Herd

You're not stuck in traffic; you are traffic.

The Blur Of Land And Sea

I'd like to grab a bottle of whiskey and a good book, and swim down to the bottom of the deepest oceans. I'd like to stay there forever.

The Words On The Prison Wall

I didn’t go to the World’s Largest Pillow Fight like I said I would. I didn’t even look up train times. I sat inside and watched the sun come up through the trees while somewhere else other people were making history.

The Parallel Doors

So yes, that was the only reason I kissed you; to see if tendresse would do what anger could not.

The Carrion Birds

Fruit flies over a kitchen sink and reddish paint splashed across the tiles in a vicious X. Smashed china crunches beneath feet that don't dare move and somewhere something bigger than a mouse scurries for cover. Screams from squemish women - one faints and in a pointless act of chivalry a man swears in the direction of the noise. Glares at the man - the silence has been broken and along with it something far less tangible; an ambience of narcissistic respect for this person they had never spoken to. He hangs his head and turns away looking ill. Another makes a move to pick up the disarrayed furniture and someone notices; steps forward to help him. Together the group tidy the flat in a trance, opening windows and letting fresh air wash away stale dust. They pry through the bedroom, setting a lamp back on the stand, flicking through photo albums but through unspoken agreement no one enters the kitchen, where a rotting stench still rules, and creatures rustle behind cabinets, as if whispering secrets in a foreign language. The story perhaps, of how this woman came to be alone.

Oh, if walls could speak

They'd only found her when it started to smell.

The Final Breath

Shhhhh, lean in close.

Let me let you in on a secret; your last thought won't be wondering what people thought of you, how you dressed, or whether that pair of jeans makes your bum look big. You're last thought will be 'Oh, is it over already?'

The Introduction

Hair darkening after the bleaching summer's sun. Green-brown eyes that seem lighter when you're happy - dark shadows under them from nights awake under the covers. A Dostoevsky quote scrawled up your right arm so it's not forgotten - a telltale sign of your lefthandedness. And your pessimism. You practise scowling at yourself; can never quite get it right, but when you smile, you don't look like you.

The Bag Over The Cage

All at once your anger dissipates, so fast as to be smoke from a fire. You look and me and smile, a twisted line drawn across a clown's face."Wanna see something cool?" You ask me, knowing how eager I would be to agree. You walk to the window and chirp, a bird like whistle that has me leaning in, fascinated. A bird, a robin with eyes brighter than the midday sun and wings like pointed razor blades hops closer, seemingly compelled to follow you. Closer, closer and closer still until it crosses the boundary, enters our world through the portal of a window frame. You reach out a hand, so slowly you are barely moving. And, to my surprise, it lets you.

"Beautiful," I say, barely more than a breath.You continue reaching, until, at last, you finger brushes its wing. At once, it hops backwards, soaring straight for the window, but you get there first and slam it shut. The bird flies straight into it, chirping angrily; showing true terror in every action. You turn to me. "This is what they do to us" You say, expression blank, angry. "That's not beautiful, that's cruelty."

Despite the hurt done, I learnt more in that conversation than in all my years of schooling.