Art by Autumn Skye Morrison

I am outdated plastic flowers where a heart used to be;
Lemon & Pine scented
– a comfort, a card with “Best Regards” providing reptilian warmth in lieu of human touch.

(Ssssss… I do what I can sss sssss)

Although I can be much softer an animal than most would anticipate. Silky smooth.
A pilgrimage well worth the journey inwards, and upwards.
Torn apart; and burst in to primary colour
dogeared and discarded


I am a laughing daughter, revelling in the driest satire; amongst a sea of slapstick.
I am a test-tube tragedy, grown within the womb of my starving sister.
I am unwanted and desired; in equal portions; likened to christmas dinner in April.
I am the illness; that replaced
(capital “S”)

I am universally misread, and critically acclaimed; written in crimson ink on ivory flesh; life spoke me sweetly in to the void
they tell me, I look best
in disarray,
firmly pressed
their bodies.
(still starving)

bequeathing nourishment to lust

But alas;
I am only literatures willing and eager bitch. Only a whore to the spirit; or a myth who would ask so eloquently.

Do you even chew before you swallow?
Can you taste the moon tainted skin She left me dressed in?

I found god today; sleepwalking with stars
caught in-between the meat He left
under my finger nails

I lament;
If only the morning after, I could remember His name.


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