(Credit: paulnoll.com/Oregon/Birds/Home/bird-feeder-Robin-eggs)

(Credit: paulnoll.com/Oregon/Birds/Home/bird-feeder-Robin-eggs)

With lips bluer than robin’s eggs, he stood as still as his shivers would allow, looking out at where sea and sky met, forcing his thoughts away from the water caressing his midriff.

They watched him from the shore. Some of them shouted at him at first, but they soon got tired of that. In fact, they soon go tired of the whole thing and one by one they left.

Twenty minutes after the last one left, his eyes closed and he slumped into the water. Coughing and gasping, he struggled to his feet and looked at the shore, fearing jeers and laughter. The silence was somehow worse.

Defining Reality

(Faceless Composition by Lara Jade)

(Faceless Composition by Lara Jade)

I am real. I am real. I am real. Not just my pain, me, I am real. This changing collection of ideas and images connected to the physical part which I point at when I say me. This sensation of memories glued together with lies. I have beliefs and dreams and fears. I have potential. You cannot steal my realness.

And around me, all that I see, touch, smell, taste, hear it is real to me. You might sense differently, but you cannot steal my reality.

And as all my sensations change, my reality changes with it and as my memories and perception changes, the thing I call me changes, but I still call it me and you cannot steal my changing identity.

All You Need Is Love

(Credit: jeff-joye on Deviantart)

(Credit: jeff-joye on Deviantart)

‘All you need is love,’ they told me and gave me a pillow with that same message.

I hug the pillow every night; it’s soft and comfortable and becomes warm after a while, and I really don’t want to seem ungrateful, but when I look at the padded walls and the tiny window in the door, I feel like one of the monkeys from the experiment with fake mothers; loving the soft, furry mother even though she never has any nourishment for me.

64 Multitasking

(Credit: gettyimages.dk)

(Credit: gettyimages.dk)

Typing with one hand:

Subject: Wednesday meeting  cancelled and brunch.

Scribbling on a post-it with the other: Frozen Veg, milk, pears. Gift for Clara, important!

… So the meeting Wednesday is cancelled, but I hope to see you all at brunch.

Buy new socks before brunch and maybe a ring for Clara.

So far it’s going great.

By the way, suits are obligatory.

Cheese, tea. Make underpants for brunch.

Buy new cakes, white and grey.

Something with coffee and bananas.

I don’t know why anyone would say that I should stop multitasking.

A Summer House Toilet

toilet wooden seat

(Credit: timbergreenforestry.com/ShawnsSeats)

He sighed as he released his stream into the toilet bowl. The wooden seat of the toilet was so aesthetically pleasing. The next time he moved, it would have to be to somewhere with a toilet like that.

It was the first day of a whole week of relaxation with his closest family; his parents, his uncle, his sister and then of course his sister’s new boyfriend, but he seemed really nice and it would surely last much longer with him than it had with the others.

His girlfriend, Jessica, had gone on holiday with her own parents, so she could not come this time, but she had a chance again next year.

He looked at the blue bathtub and smiled as he remembered all the times he had let himself soak for half an hour in hot lavender scented water. Next year maybe he and Jessica could have a bath together.

A mark on the seat of the toilet caught his attention. A sentence was carved into the wood. It said: ‘Bob was here.’ It had to be one of the people who had rented the summer house during the year.

‘What lack of respect,’ he thought, a dull anger simmered in his gut, ‘towards both the owners of the house and towards all the people who rented after Bob.’ He shook himself off and put down the seat with a slam.

‘Are you done in there?’ asked his father through the door.

‘In a minute!’ he went to wash his hands. His father was so impatient and his uncle spoke so slowly, they would be bickering this evening. And every evening in the coming week. And his sister and her lover would probably only show up during meals, and his mother would come with lewd comments about that and guess about how long his sister’s relationship would last behind his sister’s back, and he could see his mother had a point, because honestly, he could not remember whether this boyfriend was called Dave or Dylan. And in between it all there would be all the questions about Jessica and about why she had not joined them.

He sighed and longed to go home.

Animal Person


She was an animal person.

She hissed like a cat when she was angry and moved like a snake through crowds. She ate nuts like a squirrel, sometimes even hiding them around her flat. She could move her head independently of her shoulders like an owl, and often did so when listening to long stories. Her sneeze sounded like an elephant trumpeting.

She wolfed down meat in quantities that would fit a lion, and besides that and nuts she only ate a little bit of green salad and only if her stomach was upset. She buried past times in her memory, like a dog burying bones in the garden, retrieving them later to gnaw at them for hours on end. One should think that she would get through them at some point, that they would be gnawed to bits or digested, but instead the gnawing kept them fresh and she never buried them too deep.

Four Friends


(credit: wallpaperswide.com)

We were the elements.

Gwen was earth because she was so reliable. I was fire because of my red hair, although I had a long struggle with Eva to decide it; she didn’t agree to take water before we reminded her of ocean storms and assured her that more people drowned each year than were caught in forest fires. After we settled our argument, blue became her favourite colour.

And Troy was air. Because none of us really knew what to make of him.

He was there most of the time, but often disappeared before the game was done. We stopped waiting for him, because if he didn’t turn up we had wasted time, and if he suddenly did turn up during a game, he just blended in naturally. And I noticed that I breathed easier.

Gwen liked him. Eva often got angry with him, but mostly it wasn’t really him she was angry with; she just shouted out her frustrations to the sky.

And when one stormy autumn, he stopped turning up completely, I wondered whether he really had let the wind carry him away.

59 No Way Out

(Credit: trojanhorsecollective.com/conversations-with-my-storm)

(Credit: trojanhorsecollective.com/conversations-with-my-storm)

There’s no way out of these storms,

These whirlwinds and icy pellets,

This breath bereavement and lack of location control.


There’s no way out of this desert,

This sun powered oven filled with numbing nothingness

The sand eating my feet.


There’s no way out of this ocean

This crushing weightlessness,

These freezing depths.


I will be blown away

To burn

To drown


Because there’s no way out of this head of mine.

%d bloggers like this: