When I was 8 after coming home in tears from school for months, my mother had enough.
Category: Creative Writing
Mens sana in corpore sano
Body, why do you rebel against me Body, do not lie,
If I am the feather
If I am the feather you are the wings If I am the kite you are the wind
Mass Illusion
Thousands of years, wars Another age with dominant laws Life, forgotten letters cease the attar of words.
To hating long distance, mental illness and bad metaphors
I love you like broken glasses.
qmunicreate #11: Escapism
qmunicreate is an anthology of creative writing, short stories and poetry, from students at the University of Glasgow. Our eleventh … More
Sunshine Nonetheless
With sweaty thighs and the dust coming to rest on my toes, I throbbed on as the sun does, a … More
Tanfust-nneɣ*
*** Out of the dust, from the vanished particles Out of existence, illusion of reality we are immense The rhetoric … More
She Escapes the Only Way She Knows How
dried flowers poke their heads out of the battered book spines a discoloured petal stuck in the dog-eared pages … More
Rebirth
I. don’t fear the wind allow it to move you gently beyond when you feel rooted II. don’t fear … More