The rain.

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Because you took something good and made it unrecognisable

Made it broken

Made it a lie Read more

Advertisements

Fall Apart.

Can I fall apart?

Like for a second can I not be strong?

For a minute can I just.

Breathe.

Could I let myself drop?

Smack, face down into the ground

And not pick myself up

Would that be so bad?

To fall apart.

I just kinda need to fall apart

To say everything by saying nothing

To sit in silent safety until I’m ready,

to

fall

A

P

A

R

T

Read more

What mummy doesn’t know.

I told myself that what mummy doesn’t know won’t hurt her. That the loubs on her feet will be enough and won’t desert her even if I did. Though I weren’t there when she needed me and now I see that she needed me, I needed the streets because we needed to eat and me not being home just wasn’t that deep. And I was deep in it, and deeping it, it weren’t good for me. But I wasn’t doing this for me I was doing this for them, dreams at age 10 of being in the prem but life took out the R and I fucked around and nearly caught an M so life threw in an N and I landed in pen, and if I knew then what I knew now? Shit. Read more

Chapter 2; The little woman and the wooden room.

It was cold. The middle of the winter usually is, but as Larissa tightened the flaps of her jacket around her neck she began to question  whether this room was colder than it was outside. The air in there was different, thicker but cooler and every breath left a stale almost wooden taste in her mouth. The posters dotted around the yellowing walls were beginning to turn up at the edges, the pieces of plastic placed on top meant to slow the process of paper decay didn’t seem to be doing a very good job.  Read more

Chapter 1; Mcdonald’s and Microagressions.

At night, these streets had the power to be both deafeningly quiet and abhorrently loud at once. It never seemed to be dark here, not completely. Light came through in many forms, it shone through bedroom windows, flashed blue on the tops of unmarked cars and sometimes if you followed the light upwards it looked as though God himself was illuminating these streets by hand. But the lights from above were just as ungodly as the blue lights flashing on top of the unmarked cars, because though its job was to seek out young devils up to no good, it instead served as a daily reminder that these streets must be in hell. Read more

Black history month blues; Why my favorite part of October is Halloween.

Slavery? Check.

Rosa Parks? Check.

Using Martin Luther King Jr. as a way to preach about peace in the face of extreme adversity even though he was brutally assassinated? Check.

Mary Seacole? Check

“African” style dance performance? Check.

An accurate depiction of black British history which both informs people of the achievements of black people whilst boosting the self esteem and representations of black brits ? Missing.

Read more