Hush (Expanded)

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Fleet feet into the wood

you went; they had scent

for your blood,

and you obliged despite my caution.

I followed you through the veil

low lying grey, hush expanded,

my breadth at your heels—

but now you’ve learned.

So the sickness does spread

thick as molasses,

and you’re a boulder in my arms;

if I dropped you into the river, you’d sink.

Sshhh…

Be still your bleeding heart.

in the wilderness, breathe even—

do not whimper.

They cannot find what they cannot hear.

And bite down on this stick.

I’ll cauterize your wounds—

mask the iron tang.

They cannot find what they cannot smell.

Sshhh…

Rub dirt in your eyes

just in case.

It hurts less when you don’t see them coming.

 

This’ll never get old

Spooky, my kindred spirit…I love you.

Spo_oky

I went out to see my mum today and found the book. I’m waiting for my signed copy from Kindra – which should be with me soon – but I’d forgotten that mum had purchased it already.

I haven’t read it yet!

This, I know, is ridiculous, but I want the physical copy in my hands first. I’m so excited to read it. I can’t wait.

I couldn’t stop looking at it, touching it and holding it today. It’s an incredible feeling to see something that your friend and you have created together.

I know that I’ve said all this before, but I want to thank Kindra for asking me to design & illustrate the cover of her novel. It was something that I’d always longed to do, but made so much more special because of our kindred spiritness. We’ve known each other for years now and had spoken…

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Like It Was Yesterday

He hit her–bruised her pretty cheek.

He held a knife to her throat–scarred her tender flesh.

He pushed her down–bumped her head against the wall.

He said he was sorry; he was drunk.

But he didn’t beat her up because he was drunk.

He beat her up because he was a fucking prick–

because he had serious issues that required professional attention.

He was too much of a pussy to seek that help,

and instead took his frailty out on her.

I don’t pity him his instability.

I wish him dead.

And I want to be the one to kill him.

But!

I cannot excuse my mother.

Can I?

Was she a victim, or an enabler?

Both.

She was both.

And I hate her for allowing me to get involved

in such colossal bullshit.

I’m thirty-eight years old, and remember

like it was yesterday.