My face is flushed
A searing, hot heat races from my heart,
to my feet and my face.
I am a disgrace in your embrace.
I squirm
A turning worm, writhing in the sun
Surviving next to one,
who won’t burn me out.


The fishe’s mouth

Judy dangled her feet into the cool murky water. It was a hot day and his was her favourite thing to do after college. The trees wavered lazily in the breeze. The world felt peaceful and still.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Ben crept up and sat himself down next to her. He took his shoes and socks off. She noticed he had holes in both. “You weren’t yourself at all”.
Judy continued gazing into the water. She was mesmerized by the sun’s reflection on the surface, all that glitters is not gold. Her dark hair trailed down the side of her face. She was unkempt, but beautifully so.”Nothing, I’m ok really”. She looked him the eye “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did”. She went back to looking down and he rested his hand on hers for a moment. “It’s ok, I just worry is all”.

She wiggled her ankles in gentle rhythm.Out of nowhere there was a splash and the ripples ticked her skin.
“A fish!” She gasped and pulled her toes out of the water to safety. Another splash, then another. hey had seen fish in the river before but they weren’t normally this active. Suddenly the cloudy water made way to an enormous gasping mouth that opened and closed with apparent impatience. They were dazzled by flashes of gold, blue and purple. A large, unblinking eye was set at the pair of them.
“Well” Ben said, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve never seen a fish like that before”

They were transfixed on it’s mouth. It was opening and closing at an alarming rate. They became concerned that it was dying and were unsure if they should try to save it.

As it transpired, the fish was saving them.

Just like that, they were somewhere very different. They could hear hustle and bustle but they were still deeply engaged in the solemn stare into the darkness of the fishes mouth. Everything else had changed around them.

Ben tore away first. He looked around briefly, not fully registering what he was seeing. It wasn’t long before he looked back at Judy. She was very still, he found this creepy and disconcerting.
“Judy?” He touched her arm, then with no response he pulled her face towards him. Eventually her eyes snapped onto his. He felt a pulsating feeling for a short moment. Her eyes were glazed and her watched her mind come back into her before looking at out him.
“Where are we?” She murmured. She was almost to frightened to ask aloud
“I don’t know, he replied. But we’ll work it out, we’ll be alright”

Inner Claws

Her hair was a beautiful mess of feisty curls. When she sang her face contorted as if she was making caricatures of various expressions and emotions. Her reactions were that of her riding a wave and rather than having ownership of her voice, her voice had ownership of her. It was a well controlled performance that still had the smell of the wild, that odour so invigorating to breathe in, it brings out a person’s inner claws and uncontainable urge to howl at passersby.

We all have our inner claws.


So a friend of mine asked me some honest questions today on insecurities for some research she’s doing. Things like:

What are three insecurities you have?

Do you keep your insecurities hidden from people, if so why?What kind of feelings do your insecurities bring you?

Have your insecurities ever stopped you from doing something you wanted to do?

What do you think the world would be like if we were more honest about our problems and feelings?

I wrote the most honest response I could and realised that people should talk about this a bit more. So I’m humbly posting it here in the hope it will stir up conversation. We are never alone.

I worry that I annoy people or that they think bad of me for one reason or another (I hate upsetting people). I also worry that I will never find true love and have a family. I also worry that I’ll never be truly good at anything.

My biggest worry is definitely missing out on love and a family.

I try to keep them hidden as I think they make me seem weak and it adds to my worry of people having a bad impression. Plus the more admitted, the more is let out to deal with (it’s easier to ignore when know one knows). I don’t keep them hidden when I realise someone else is feeling it and I want to help and let them know they’re not alone. And sometimes I just can’t keep it under wraps Once it starts I start worrying about everything. I panic and become frigidity and obviously irritated.

How they make me feel? Scared, angry, frustrated, no confidence, panicked and that I can’t look people in the eye.

They stop me from doing things a lot. I have a voice that tells me ‘You can’t do that’, just simple things that would make me happier or anything that involves being the focal point of attention. I’m learning to override this. It’s really satisfying doing something anyway and saying ‘fuck you’ to myself. It has taken me a while to realise I am capable of overriding it…but doing so sometimes causes it to come back harder. I am becoming stronger to it though and I like this strength.

People should be more honest about their problems. Especially insecurities as they make you feel so isolated. It always feels good to talk to someone else who worries about the same stuff. Not only is it helping, but it eases the pressure on you. People shouldn’t be scared to talk about these things only it’s kind of the heart of what it is, so it’s difficult. If people did the world would be a better place as negative feelings lead to negative behaviour and that in turn can transmit to other people. Any bad emotions spread and it’s important to stamp them out. Sometimes it’s just a case of realising you are only seeing from one perspective and there are plenty of other ones out there you could choose to see from.

The ever written book

The misery of winter is slowly melting in the days of increasing sunlight.
Life’s essence, suspended in animation slowly drips and sinks back into the hard earth as the warm rays unlock it from it’s frozen prison.
There is so much hope for this year.
Hope in constant battle with fear of failure and the boldness of new moves, scratching permanent scars on the stoney monoliths of history.
In life we strive to carve our own story, leaving tales of glory and a way to be remembered when we are dead. Each memory is immortality.
Each person’s life is their own experience as is each animal and plant.
Even things alive for the shortest of time have the opportunity to leave their mark.
Life is an ever written book, it’s pages turned by the unstoppable force of the hands of time.
How thankful I am to live within it’s paragraphs.


Is the saddest kind of love, that which has been lost. Not one that has struggled through the peaks and troughs of hardship. Not one unrequited as he is far pitched above any man who’d lay eyes on her. When one who’d pave ways for her sits idle in the corner. His mind ravaged with frustration at the blindness to what’s in front of her. He’s never ever felt her like he does within his dreams. Never ever smelt her when she’s splitting at the seams. When life has dealt her brutal blows and she knows what nothing means, so vulnerability somehow tranquilly dismisses possibilities once meant to be. A future dissipates in front of her eyes. Such beautiful promises reveal themselves as lies. All the prospects for her next steps slip to their natural demise as the stairs give way under cautious treads and she falls without reprise. And he could never really know how she truly feels. As at least she has her pride when the secrets just hers still. When no-one knows the burning of the words locked on her lips. There for the taking with the right kind of kiss. The right kind of kiss from the right kind of man .Someone she can count on over years as they span a lifetime as it rusts, a golden hue of trust and lust, a lovers promised planned. Amidst a blur of frantic, grasping, rough and gentle hands.


Welcome to my mind. My blessing and my curse, my best and my worst.
This is where the true me hides from you.
It is an aviary of birds diverse, a passionately adverse colourful verse to the dark hearted dead.
They chatter, squawk and swarm through my head.
Snatching under formed, fetalesque thoughts before they’re words to be said.
Before they’re comprehendable feelings rather than language that can’t be read.
The starlings swarm the most.
I am the starlings host.
They pull me apart by the threads of my characteral flaws
Unravel and leave me next to nothing, as nothing’s easier to ignore.
The Phoenix comes in my darkest moments. Eternal, internal, the starling’s opponent
Always almost too late to save my state from a fate that dilapidates all redeeming traits.
Before I am unsalvageable.
I’m simply unmanageable.
A tangible, consumable, notion of all that is unvaluable

The crows collect my bones.
They are the stones that condone any faith I seem to own.
The Magpies steal my eyes, my teeth, my wishes and beliefs
And they set to work reconstructing me in all my concepts
Building narrow, marrow bridges connecting the fleshy islands of my facets.
Creating a new world in which my tenacious conscious can reside.
Where birds of paradise bask in warm sunshine
Where toucans and puffins smile through painted faces sublime and glorious peacocks dare to flash uncompromising exquisity
I love each and every one who ever was and who will ever be.
And everything is beautiful
I inhale hatred and exhale goodwill
If only I could stay here without fear of self sabotage
But my entourage of starlings will return in a few days, to begin the process of self dismantling again
There’s no one I can blame. I have a mind I cannot tame.
A barrage of disdain.
A fear and sense of shame
If only I’d escape the cage that is my birdbrain.