Today I received the best news I’ve had in six months. At this point, I do not need surgery. I was looking down the barrel of needing a bilateral groin reconstruction, and that is no longer the case… assuming that the intensive physiotherapy regime I’m likely to start in a fortnight is successful.

That’s a plus. There was a negative over the weekend involving honeyed chai, but it’s one less distraction at this point, as delightful a distraction as it had the potential to be.

I’m not feeling happy. I’m not feeling calm. I’m not feeling normal.

I am, however, feeling just a little bit better. Maybe that’s enough, for now.



with you

I was going to do a proper post tonight, but I’m afraid it would teeter from one emotional extreme to another and might become just a little nonsensical, a little too revealing, and might end up needing to be edited-the-hell-out-of in any case. I think I might need to process a few things first, maybe run them through my paper journal instead – sorry dear fans, but I do keep a slightly more private and analogue one of these. I love you all, but I’m just a little private about some details.

Instead, I’m going to fulfil my previous post’s conclusions and put up some poetry. These are the first seven in a longform sequence that is underway; longform in that it’s a multiplicity, not that the poems themselves are long, they are more short vignettes. Anyway – enjoy, and feedback if you please.


conversations with You



You know, I wanted to talk
about angels and angles and
verdigris summertime,

but you’re busy I guess and
I’m not the best at talking anyway.

I’ll take my topic and just
cogitate soundless but guilt
makes me hopeless yet tell of
happiness, I hope.



It’s a letter from me:
starts with Dear and
ends with love I’m above
the line but here’s a piece
of bluegrass; cup it in
your hands, don’t stand but
bite the chill,
now wake.



The pillow’s empty and flat
but your impression’s still there
in dreamtime,
liquid chocolate glitters and
gleams over a smile of

I endure but I’m alone
and you’re not, it
doesn’t hurt
but it drags me to
the floor,
on carpet of lilac
I can taste perfumed
they aren’t true.



Moonbeam catcher, you whisper,
fists close on tempted shadow;
I open my eyes &
stare at whitened glare.

Breathe deep with fellowship,
a squeezed shoulder’s a sign
& so’s a twinkling iris-
perhaps others notice what
we haven’t.

Absent I’m fondness
& I convince myself it’s false
but I close my eyes and you’re there;
a mental polaroid
without me in frame.



Lipstick stains cream
here’s a tissue, now
let’s talk – no?

It’s a construct of self
& I think you’re listening
but it’s just me;
a game of one,
doubles partner not found.

I’d call but I’m afraid
I’d answer it,
reality creeping in
and helping me



I’m sure this time,
as you approach with
lapis-lazuli smiles,
clothed in powdered turquoise silk,
I was asleep.

I don’t care,
as most compassion and affection
are everclear in sheen,
while eyelids flicker and flutter
& I smile back.

When I wake you’ve gone
into dreamscape
but my lips curve upwards
as oxytocin flows down muscle
like satin,
I’ve woken early
but whole.



It’s not first sight nor
second third fourth
but cumulation,
& when it hits it’s a
cannon to the soul of
desperate-tinged shock.

Sometimes the trip heralds the fall,
but I’ve been stumbling so long
I’m unsteady,
& there’s no pride to lose
or gain
or hope to draw down


Please note, none of them are ‘final’, they are all ‘first pass’ or ‘second pass’ at best, but there’s a rawness to them that I’m sort of enjoying when I reread – enjoying, and despairing.

Ah, writing. My god, do I fucking love hate loathe respect despair enjoy it.



happy may

This is likely to be short, albeit probably not saccharine. I’ll get back with more at some point in the near future, I hope!

Currently I am on my final rotation of Phase 2, being Mental Health, Psychiatry, Crazy Town, whatever you feel like calling it, although the third option is slightly cruel. Slightly cruel, that sums up the rotation for me thus far. The first week… it almost killed me. I walked onto the psych unit on the Tuesday morning and stumbled off in the afternoon, my mind a whirling dervish of almost-total despair. It was perhaps the hardest drive home I’ve had in a very, very long time, I just could not disconnect. The previous post, which sounded a little ‘down’? Not the half of it.

The second day… less so. I somehow managed to put a small barrier up between myself and the patients (despite being on the even more acute ward) to the extent that my heart did not break with every patient, although it did twinge. The third day was much the same. If I wasn’t working with the partner I am, the amazing Kate, I think my week would not have been improved. Actually, after the end of the first day we both, on our way to the carpark, looked at each other and just kind of shared a moment – and discussed how absolutely horrific we both felt.

Bounced back though – it is hard to work with a perfect optimist and stay down, at least if the triggers are removed. One of them was, and another, well… sometimes we lack company we desire and beat ourselves up for it, and then we come to terms with it, and then it hits us in the face…

Well that sounds moody. I did not have a happy easter, let us say that. I was an emotional trainwreck after a week of psychiatry, I was particularly sensitive to elements of life that I normally button under wraps and pretend don’t exist, I was stressed about exam/life/essay/work balance, and a certain pair of eyes just would not get out of my head.

Finish that weekend and… somehow, things were stabilising. Five days off, wherein I wrote said essay, did a bit of study, ate way too much, spent some quality family time, saw a few friends, and did some relaxation exercises just… helped. The following week, during a tutorial with a clinical psychologist, I brought up the close-to-breakdown I’d experienced and asked for her thoughts – she asked if I would want to adjust my reaction, and in all honesty I said no, I just wondered how she thought it should be dealt with – I received the answer I expected, which was individuality and self and etc, which was actually affirming. Ah, psychiatry. Fascinating and downheartening.

In other news, I’ve started a poetry sequence titled Conversations tentatively, no titles, all numbers, and all are a one sided conversation with someone(s) who will probably be perpectually nameless. Ah, the joy of creation – I’ll put one or two up soon.

Right now though I’m going to leave uni and go home and eat. It’s been a long enough day today.