Fall Apart.

Can I fall apart?

Like for a second can I not be strong?

For a minute can I just.


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,








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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 light from above was just as ungodly as the blue lights flashing on top of the unmarked cars, because though it’s 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.

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Should we really dress how we wish to be addressed ?

Low tops and high skirts

She doesn’t wear bras

Won’t find her in church

Locate her in bars

Back out

Breasts out

Legs out

A hoe never gets cold

But any hoe who’s a hoe knows, that a hoe is always told;

Dress how you wanna be addressed.

They say it’s not victim blaming

Just that prevention is better than cure

Spoken to like an object? Only wanted for sex?

Just don’t dress like a whore!

Like it’s that simple, that easy

A choice to not be objectified

But there’s women in burkas who see men and are still petrified

Because you say that it matters what I wear but it doesn’t

So when I wear next to nothing, hold your lips, fuck your judgement

One rule for one gender, a different rule for another

But when dressed in all black, hooded up and you get stopped

You don’t blame yourself or your clothes, it’s those pigs, fuck the cops

Dress how you wanna be addressed but only if you’re a sister, not a brother.  Read more