Sunday 30 November 2014


Her bones ache she takes a pill opens the window the rain lashes out she closes her eyes she longs for the smell of the sea

Sunday 16 November 2014


Been living too long here time to go,she whispered 

Never seen her again, they say she lives under a bridge nowadays

They always tell so many things

Thursday 30 October 2014


The park is covered with fallen leaves. Her bench wet and cold, she sits and prays. A cold breeze swirls her hair. She waits

Tuesday 7 October 2014




Dreamt a new city. Only parks and roads, nothing else. Her bench sitting proud at the top of the hill. Autumn yellow light flickers, a dog barks, she sits to read and nothing will ever bother her again.


Tuesday 16 September 2014



She went to the park, after a long absence. She felt ill as she approached the bench she used before. Autumn was in the air, she sat, opened her bag and sobbed.


Wednesday 7 May 2014



She said she has lost everything there is to lose, now she only cares about the park and her bench. She said is the only place she wants to be.


Monday 21 April 2014



She said no they grumbled a bit she said no again she wanted light.


Saturday 12 April 2014


Her dreams were shattered at an early age, she claims. She haunts the streets and console herself with other people debris.

Thursday 27 March 2014


Embittered, she pauses to break a porcelain cup. She welcomes the sound.



Thursday 20 March 2014


She forgot the days. She wondered about the quality of her senses, sometimes she tried hard. All she could do was to stare at the clouds.



Friday 28 February 2014


She looks at the photos, an unnamed hotel room:  white sheets, flowery wallpaper, lamp. Only she can see the baby’s corpse, abandoned in a beach.

Monday 3 February 2014

We watch

We watch you on the street, we watch you in your house, we let you breathe for now. We don't care where you are, we will always found you. She goes to the park and sits on her bench and waits.

Thursday 23 January 2014


Her job is meaningless and she does not have the strength to lurch to another one. She flops on the sofa, entangles her thoughts, watches one film or another, cavorts with the notion of another life, swtiches the tv off and goes to sleep.



Tuesday 21 January 2014


Fog, cold, a coat, gloves, walks apace, the bench empty, she sits down for a while, then gets up, curses, and arrives for work.

Saturday 11 January 2014



Light scarce, horizon undermined, the gloom settles: a fair assesment of her life.


Saturday 4 January 2014


Exhale. The air alive, fireflys. She reaches the window, the panes translucid, but they are not there anymore.



Thursday 2 January 2014


They can sniff your foreignness, you don’t need to open your mouth, they know. They sneer and you know you are a frog from another pond never quite here. She goes out only at night, when the shadows merge the living with the dead.