without brother
two sisters
two mothers
once two fathers
but now, one

without sun
without bedroom
multiple cities
walls and accents
gravitate towards the north
this island, so miniature
though, not humble
sure, I stumble with my heavy rucksack
I pack a few pieces of fabric
to warm my long limbs

a few pieces of paper
bound on the left side
hoping they accept my melanchonic ink

Collateral + The Void is Golden


I recently made a tiny zine, which is on the left of this picture. It’s sort of a prequel to a series I hope to work on over the next few months which aims to question inequality in society and also to discuss topics like cultural identity, apathy, vegetarianism/veganism and alienation – to name a few things!

 The zine on the right, The Void Is Golden , was made by Lloyd, my lovely boyfriend, its really worth checking out. He’s written some really brilliant stuff and encouraged me to write my own.

If you’d like any copies, get in touch! X

A to B

Train journeys pacify

watch the terrain change and the hills rise

fall and flatten

observe the pattern left by vapour trails as they cross

and blend into the pale blue but mostly grey canvas

sit quietly in second class like the majority of the population

without leather shoes and briefcases

I sow seeds in too many places

roots spread sparsely

an accent which has grown undefinable

it doesn’t match any of these places

with stations in towns I’ve lived

But the motion is soothing

I am nowhere in particular

the golden void between

point A and

a tranquil space I hold dear to me

non-distinct, nor tangible

yet, abundant and large enough to pacify and hold

all of my attention

apart from the part of the mind which visualizes

what if point B were any of these places

with stations in towns I’d not yet explored

but the train journey almost always ends

before these thoughts manifest.

Aji-ma કવિતા

Two plaits hang delicately

reaching the base of her fractured spine

four foot ten with the resilience of a mountain

which, like her, must erode

and transform with time

though, this is in the morning

before the daily-worn armor of tracksuits and trainers

before the plaits wrap and entwine

and create her crown of security and strength

she faces each day in each way it comes

ever-more aware of the cold, yet, still resting in the northern sun

layers intact

the garden swing sways with feet on chairs rested

long silences lead me to wonder what the right words are to say

so, instead we sit side-by-side and gaze at the horses across the stream

parent and foal



a swarm

people with reasons only they must justify

to leave their home

uprooted by corruption, oppression and warfare

show us the statistics which validate their

sub-human status which the misadvised

have already prescribed

already assigned

already denied to lend ears and hours of empathy

tell me their names

tell me their aspirations

tell me their fears

not in my name will you barricade this nation.