He ran his tongue
Within her lips
Lacing then with
His poison.
Drawing her in
Until she was his


She ached for the
He provided.
The ecstasy
Of surrender

She quivered as he drew away
Night air
It’s purity
Her lungs in his absence.

He smiled at the


And she did.



His fork’ed tongue
Did cut too quick
The tarnished lover’s
Graz’ed lips


She felt him
Hard beneath her touch
as she pressed him back,
finger splayed,
on tips.

Hardly any pressure applied.
After all,
no real resistance

She arched and shivered
as his lips brushed through her hair,
to ear,
nape of neck,

Pinpricks of his
not long shaven beard
on the skin surrounding
her lips.

And those eyes,
they smirked down at her
even when she had scolded
the grin
from the mouth itself.

Good god, that mouth.

Those lips
as soft as ripened stone fruit
and a tongue
with adventurous spirit.

He leaned in again,
hands lacing around
her waist
to pull her closer.

“You liked that one,”
he teased

“I felt you…”

Then scent,

She clung to his shirt,
allowing her
nails to scratch
at his warming skin.

She trembled,
partly from cold,
mostly not.

He leaned in
allowing himself to
inhale her

Momentary calm flooded
his features
as he pulled her mouth
to reach is own
once more.

A group of men
walked by whooping
at his success,
but she barely noticed.

A pair
of mouths
and bodies
in the early hours of a rainy summer night.


If there were a time
It should be now;
To shed bindings
of the past
The hate
For self
For body
For weaknesses.

If there were a time
It should be now;
To cast to the abyss
All darkness of thought
All hatred of man
Of woman
Of child.

If there were a time
It should be now;
To cherish
A stranger’s touch
Burnt passion
Melting ice.

If there were a time
It should be now;
For silence
For sorrow
For self.

Beyond this time
There is nothing

But nothing
Is everything

To some.

Taxi Cab

Without thought,
Without word,
Yet with Passion,
With Heat.

The Kiss.

It ran as formaldehyde within my veins.
Destroying all that once had been.
Solidifying this moment
This ecstasy
This Wrong.

And you

You were all I had ever dreamed
As Wrong
As forbidden
As far beyond the reach of an ivory child
such as me.

You changed the darkness
That brought you to me.
You charged the darkness
With cavernous,

How dare you take me
Without permission
Without restraint.

With tongue, and breast, and heat, and hand, and word, and neck…
But without love.

Hidden in the darkened interior
Of that hired taxi cab.

Copper Kettles for the Soul

Today I read Victoria Coren Mitchell’s article for The Guardian, “Stop the world, I need a break”.

It awoke in me a desire to create a similar list; a compilation of mismatched loves I use to create momentary distraction from the insanity of the world. As Mitchell wrote, “These are some things I’m going to try to clear my head and focus on – to the exclusion of all else.”

  • The castle and familiar chords of When you Wish Upon a Star that begin all the greatest films
  • Puppies discovering life
  • Jumping onto trains with great haste, only to find they sit at the station for another few minutes
  • The smell of dryer sheets
  • Fireworks
  • Debbie Reynolds brushing streamers from her face during “All I do is Dream of You
  • Patrick Warburton’s voice
  • Sitting through a simply wonderful play (Frankenstein, Twelfth Night, Treasure Island, for example)
  • Being woken by the smell of pancakes
  • Butterfly kisses
  • Robin Williams being interviewed on Parkinson in 2002
  • Any costume worn by Laurence Rickard for Yonderland
  • A perfectly crafted Manhattan
  • Calvin & Hobbes
  • Listening to any Josh Groban album
  • An afternoon spent in the National Portrait Gallery
  • Rollercoasters and the photos theme parks insist on taking during rollercoasters
  • Reunion hugs
  • Ellen DeGeneres’ 2009 Commencement Speech at Tulane University
  • The expressions of couples whose houses have just been revealed on Fixer Upper
  • The gift of a hand knitted scarf
  • Red wine in long stemmed glasses
  • The shark from Toy Story’s impression of Woody
  • Starry night skies away from the city lights
  • Bear claws with fresh coffee
  • Ludovico Einaudi’s Elegy for the Arctic
  • Sun-dappled curtains on a lazy morning
  • Ugly Christmas sweaters
  • Sharing your quirky loves with like-minded people
  • David Attenborough’s enthusiasm
  • Morning hikes in the rainforest after a brief rainstorm
  • The outtakes from Horrible Histories
  • Carousel horses awash wish glistening fairy lights
  • A steaming hot cup of tea
  • Tom Hiddleston reading May I Feel Said He by E.E. Cummings
  • A night spent in conversation
  • Sunrise on the beach
  • Dwayne Johnson… mainly his arms, but the rest of him ain’t half bad….
  • The smell and warmth of freshly laundered blankets
  • Grover and John John
  • Hot baths on rainy evenings
  • White roses in crystal vases
  • Penelope Wilton and Nicholas Le Prevost in “Bedroom Farce

A Promise to Self

I have made a promise to myself to start writing again.
I realise none may read.
I realise few will care.
Though I feel I must.
For there are lives unlived, cities unmade, and magic unsaid, all dwelling in tumultuous non-existence within my head.
These pages will hope to remove the madness from within & share the stories to world in which they belong.
I pray they are loved from without, as much as they have been within.