I have writers block, Like one lonely sock Looking for it’s pair in the tumble dryer. My, er, motivation? Where is it, I’m stuck to this couch, can’t move one bit, Or maybe I can, maybe pretending so is the voices plan, ‘You don’t want to do anything, Nothing, Not today’ When will the voice,… Continue reading Tumble dryer
Have you ever been so in your own head that you’re also so out of it? Like your inescapable thoughts have taken you above your being, an outsider watching an insider, experiencing the reminiscence as though through a window. Watching as a stream of infinite different scenarios, very few of them positive, flutter around the… Continue reading The unknowable question
It has taken me a while to decide what I want to say as I reflect upon my first year of University; particularly when trying to find the positive aspect within what has been a very difficult year. As I write this, having just emptied my flat in halls, returning home for three whole months… Continue reading Reflections
It always comes back to this, doesn't it? Mascara stained sheets with arms reddened and scratched to bits. What started it off? My mind is lost. A tsunami of thoughts crushing the walls of stability that hold my mind at peace. I've refrained from sharing something so honest for a little while because I found… Continue reading The Tsunami
"Beach body ready in 6 weeks!" Scream the adverts attacking my eyes, with the image of a rippling torso displaying the ideal guy and for the girls? A flat stomach to compliment the abs displayed to the left and lets not forget the ladies' perfect chest. Why is one frame suitable for sand and sun?… Continue reading A good hypocrite but a bad poet
I have a very complicated relationship with summer. I love summer in many ways. However cliche it may sound, I love the sound of lawnmowers and the smell of freshly cut grass, I love the satisfaction of a cold drink on a hot day, I love the feeling of warm sand between your toes, I… Continue reading Summer lovin’? hatin’?
Exit There’s a door in the way between me and my day and it’s large and it’s tall and it’s colored dull grey. There’s no lock on the door, no need for a key so why, or why, won’t the door let me free? There’s stairs to go down And what if you fall?… Continue reading An amateurs poetry