gentle evolution or a nerd in the hands of the NHS

(this came out whilst my pain was a good 9/10  and my nurse was shoving crisps down her throat)

it’s real
it’s real
it’s an out of tune singalong
of a
first world drama
its petty
but I need to ruin this reality
with something stronger
with rigid rules
and stamina
with sunshine
with potentiality
with the coming of the future
I will ruin now
this now is passing
this now is a tale
not worth telling
it’s so long gone
it’s almost already funny

ground is busy
shaking me off
ungrateful bitch
imagining all is up to a standard
of her own
shut the fuck up
your shit is not welcome
your mouth is about to be sliced off
get lost
get lost
without you
we are in awe of the emptiness
and crisp silence of the joy
of air
without you
there are no rules to obey
fuck you

To hell with you and thy faith

untitled unedited hospital particle

this is not tragic
it’s full of life
on the inside

in the

room service
luxurious soup
5 teas a day
as many drugs
as wished for
come dine with me
Bukowski and Steinbeck
a bell for any of my needs

I couldn’t cry
for I am privileged
to breathe
and be assisted
by 4
gorgeous girls
each time
I pee

THE orange van man – a prequel

in the sticky sunshine
of our vibrant street
a cowboy
steps out of the gas
dusty, yellow.
stations himself
where his vehicle emblem
should have been
oh he would have been
so mine
if  I could be seen
with a man

he sits comfortably
like a woman would be-
legs apart
not waiting

flicks his lighter
a bit like a redneck fashion show

obviously pretends
he likes sports
and downs beers
on school nights

you could smell
the liquor with which
his skin was burned
after his first heartbreak
his strength was naive
and real

I fought my instinct to step out
of our one bed apartment
I could have stared uncomfortable
across him
something would

I wasn’t shy to undress though
in the window frame
I love the potential attention

by the time he lost the cigarette
I had finished my guilty pleasure too
I watched him prepare
for the drive ahead
as if his van was about to deliver
a secret weapon to mankind

my femininity was passive
as always
his masculinity
out to eat you all
and you look prepared


tiny seahorses
azure sky
with the horizon
thy end
is beyond

your death and smile
are easily
and the same
your photo is
your frame
of a macho

reflecting on emotion
and passion
sunk in
your muscle

your squinty eyes
Carry your princess
across the store
in between
your memories
and records

she gasps frequently
deeply fascinated
and comes to terms
with the end of her search

the final embrace
is the first true touch
and her echo
your new skin

the depths of the sea
Adore you two
and welcome you
with a flush


my one true

”whaddya ev’n know ’bout it”
rushes to the window
looks to her feet
two for one
or many for nothing

chains hold her
beyond me
I seldom try to carry her load
I possibly can’t
not allowed
to see her bloom

finishing off
gazing lazily at a covered bottom
should have brought wine
but ”why
sugarcoat it
sweet tits”

she hates me
but disallows to show me that
she follows rules
she does her homework
On a chair
undressed and fastened.

her eyes different colors
hair oriental
skin type uncommon
and a feel I get
she is going where she’s meant to

the Gods must be angry with her
she is taking a lot in
can’t jump into
an ”average” life
it never was thus

I finally come
she hasn’t moved

but in my head she came with me
soft spoken
covered in potential me’s
warm and well-read
I even imagine
having feelings, bills.

Wipe my thighs
our eyes meet
how can one be so shy
of a momentous
one inch punch style
historical defeat

I swallow her rear with my gaze
I could go again
if she’d let me

time – space reality

starting with the conclusion
write! write! write!
or be silent

show discipline
or stay stagnant
the effort is so effortless
so pointless
so pointed

to an idea
of resurrection
of the dead spirits
that lie within
and recognize each other
all at once

”Oh hey”
they say
in a non-vocabular language
”good to acknowledge you”

loss of time and space
the ultimate

best times begin

they say youth is to be treasured
but how can you
when you haven’t yet had
anything else
to compare it with

broad shouldered wise-men
shut up and glare
when they see fresh meat

they meant youth is what they treasure when old
when you lose it
but I will keep it
on these pages
in my diaries

I am youth
my heart a phoenix
as I delete my past
and become someone new

This is day one for me.
The only day I will live
Don’t by-stand
I don’t want to be admired
I only travel for truth
and to be of service

I am multidimensional
in a body of a woman
and I love that vessel
and the creativity of the life force

But I would much rather
be a soul now
Not a subject
Of fantasies
But real – solid –
Game changer

So I begin
Thank you


My friendship with myself
Is so
It lights up my room
Sets my hair on fire
And I just watch
So bloody content
with myself

One could think it’s narcissistic
But I just like my dirty sheets
and my comfy socks
More than the uncomfort
Of outside space
Yes, interaction can be succulent too
But self-love is both
the giver and receiver
I am everything in a monologued
Love affair

Hot on a tin roof
Back home
In my Earth shaped heart
Rocking my feet up and down
The azure sky

I kiss myself
I laugh at that too
It’s like I’m a self obsessed schizo
And neither of us
Have ever felt a love
So true

short but bloated or tall but empty

Last poem was shit
took it off
To do work so bad
not sure if
quality over
quantity though
a lot is good
diversity good
space for mistakes yes
growth too
judgement is over
I’m no Bukowski
I can’t chain myself
To a way I should be
I’m just going to be
Whether I feel like it or not
I am free, I am free

Life around lunch

The ever-changing lunch space
the area so full of consent
that is relieving.
not a round table but
it comes around like every other cycle

Sometimes the silence is overpowering
Sometimes it gives you its power to think
Your sandwich is warm and feels old
Older than that Apple
The one that started it all
the nature of environment and its furniture
It falls apart every night when the lights go out
It build itself again
When the first person comes in the building
In excitement to be seen again
To gather information the walls will tell
For centuries to come
Or until the next war

Half of your sandwich is down
You forgot to open your crisps
Maybe leave them for later
Is later coming
It seems you’re trapped in a moment of work
Until lunchtime
And all there is between work and lunchtime is the mindless walk
Do you breathe in that walk
Do you gather information too

For When work is over
As your crisps
Gather dust
Under the table
That collapses
And your second bit of sandwich
Is down your throat
Your belly protesting the bleached flour
And the dead meat
This can’t be all there is

For lunch