The Seamstress

Published by PSILoveYou Sitting at the table with needle and thread, I’m eyeing the pieces of you, cast like discarded clothing, throughout the room. I move from scrap to scrap, gathering muscle, sinew and bone, laying out the pattern of you in my mind. My tears run freely at the sight of self-destruction, hitching a... Continue Reading →

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Yet I hang in the balance of exhaled breath waiting to be drawn in, close. I hold on loose gripped for the briefest time then escape on a long sigh Truth comes, climbs on me heavy moves in a slow crawl across my skin. I shrink weighted remembering when it ate me alive, bones crushed... Continue Reading →

Proof of Life

my roots scale upward unhinged ivy reaching for sooted skies; requiem of a shadowed life dying to live these supple sinews thrive feeding on solum start deconstructing my destruction; a bushfire birth I have dirt in my eyes and ashes in my mouth but feet feel ethereal freedom breach-birthed I walk the heavens with a... Continue Reading →


I wonder if black holes grieve as I for blazed trails and spiraling companions and cyprus vines that looped our limbs when we danced through astral fields; dared to smile. Are they stained by death as I now left to hawking my wares to woeful passerby's the lack of which cloaks in gelid mourning.


Can I say it, pull the words like teeth lip gripped and held tight? I'm thrashing walls and smashing lies in an effort to get some goddam light into this place because I'm done! I'm done being without you Don't get me wrong now I still hate chick flicks and prefer axle stands to jewelry... Continue Reading →

Words like Wine

(For Ivan) I drink your words with deliberate deference as supple legs walk my glassy skin words swirl to generate the finest hint of what's to come. Aromas whisper promises of then and now olefactory ears pull memories from my dusty shelves, relived, wet and new, whilst surprising me with hints of you; terroir tales... Continue Reading →

Under the Influence

I watched the tiny shiny ones angle spotlights, casting disproportionate shadows, riveting grins to their labelled tins in an effort to lift sagging egos like melancholy breasts in a Prozac bra. Lo, the canned collective cometh: here authentic and organic are spat from the same dubious womb and popular truths are found in front of... Continue Reading →

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