A Haven

Have you found a haven in his arms,
cos theres no haven in your arms for me,
is he the one who’s driving his car,
and waiting at half past 3,
in the afternoon,
and I wanna see you soon,
but you keep damaging my health,
cos you keep pushing me in the pit,
that I dug myself.


pink-glitter vinyl

Taken by Me. At the Tate Liverpool

pink-glitter vinyl



The lights were flashing, the noughties music bought back memories, good and bad, and the drink slowly carried me around the club. Even though everyone was so close to each other, everything seemed segmented. Packs of men like wolves roamed, while the treacles trickled around from group to group, giving the eye and showing that they were the dictionary definition of divinity to all the boys. 
It was surreal, yet so real, it would take one girl to sundance in the middle of the room, acting as a beacon, which then would attract the boys who’s brain had went south, holding a drink, in their cuffed jeans, gelled hair trying to capture that lady they want thinking they had the chance, not knowing they won’t call the shots. She would call the shots, and she would leave the boys in a midst of smoke being generated by the smoke machine on the stage.

Throw the Past away.

Cleaning out the skeletons from my closet,
and taking out the love letters to,
I’ll send a text as my loves deposit,
and hope for a reply soon.
It seems a lightyear since there was any hope,
muttering on a sunny afternoon,
its crazy how it was three years ago,
I caught your eye under the moon.
The hands on my watch go back,
while the hand on yours go forward,
I’m on despairs beaten track,
and you’ve found the secret chord.


Baby, cut the strings.

Under the somber velvet skies of that Sunday, with tears falling from mine and hers, she rose, like a beacon, an angel, to tell me that there is nothing left anymore. Exclaiming that I was no good, and it hurt to hear, it hurt even more to know it was true. It burnt my chest and scrambled my brain and made my emotions so saturated that they had pulled me down, like I had hit rock bottom. These emotions were mine though, yet she seemed, at that very moment, to have control over my emotions, like my emotions had became detached. Love, Loss, Anger, Happiness, every emotion became a string and with these strings she became my puppeteer.