I feel like sometimes I have these stories floating inside me, like worms trapped in my stomach eating at my insides. Parasites resting in my brain between the grey-pink folds of me. Most of the time I barely care, like an old oak being strangled by ivy, I hardly notice the infestation. I engulf myself … Continue reading Why Don’t You Write Anymore?
thoughts
Summer Day Sadnesses
Watching the world turn through a series of paint-marker windows, Of barely square houses, not homes, Drawn poorly and hung on the fridges of week-to-week mothers, With cashed checks strewn on the street, and fathers, all fucking deadbeat, Why do they always pack up and leave? Moments, passing in front of me. Houses all full … Continue reading Summer Day Sadnesses
Children Of Men
Out past the blinking lights of electric existence, far beyond the polluted horizons- A single cry echoes across the clamouring earth. From the dirtied, used, ruined bellies of haggard mistakes falls an angel. Never has anything purer graced the soil upon which that miracle lays- For this glorious moment, all of human filth, destruction, hatred, … Continue reading Children Of Men
Tired
Sat down at a creaking desk, With a broken pen and rusty hands, I write this down; The draft from the window gives my skin a texture, My coffee is cold. It’s raining outside again - I’m yawning once more Huddled in a borrowed jumper, I’ve almost found the right words – But not … Continue reading Tired
Butterflies
A short story about indecision and dissatisfaction. When I was young and naïve, and my world had been delighted between sunlit smiles and white winter snow fights, I formed the error in judgement that would come to be my hamartia. I made the stupid mistake of believing, even in my childish whims, that if I … Continue reading Butterflies
Butterflies
Last night I dreamt of butterflies, made from silk, then light, then paper – Fluttering between my words and breaths, our eyes were ships, and my hands an anchor We were swept away in tides of fallen wings, dark-veined and too fragile to touch – I watched as they crumbled in my irises, into waves … Continue reading Butterflies
Pray For Rain
I think perhaps I may have prayed too hard for rain; The white clouds have been bruised, beaten purple with my insistent demands Water squeezed, stolen from the pores of the empty skies Terrified fling themselves to the Earth - No, it is not water that falls, but tears Tears falling down from her heavenly … Continue reading Pray For Rain
An Existence In Art – Chaos Theory
I watch as the stars swim in and out of existence, serenely oblivious to the screaming disarray on Earth Silently dipping, twinkling, dancing across the vacuum of infinity just above me. I bring my eyes down to the chaos beneath my warm fingertips, but even this mess has an order Everything I touch has a … Continue reading An Existence In Art – Chaos Theory
The Park Before Dawn
Dancing under streetlights and between cigarette smoke, Following the tendrils out of your mouth, tracing your warm lips with my cold fingertips- Listening to blurry music – sharing faded songs Shivering under the stars but holding on to each other and feeling warm. Sharing breaths, passing the stardust between our blue parted lips, Teaching you … Continue reading The Park Before Dawn
Cogito Ergo Sum
Drifting through space, thoughts on the wind, memories fluttering across the mind Never settling on the petals of gyri, like restless butterflies – hovering over the wrinkles of corpus-callosum grey skies Existentialism spills existence all over my brain – but the windows of solipsism confines the flood to my head Only scepticism, leaking out … Continue reading Cogito Ergo Sum
Alicia Jones Poetry 