Cackling into the depths of a teacup,
Energy tingles and pops,
Floorboards swirling watercolours.
I hunker down,
I’ve never been in this part of my house before.
Patterns in walls, the road brightens,
Plants shine happy,
An otherworldly trio,
Celtic goblins under a bridge.
The hairs on my arms bristle like swaying seaweed,
Diving into the crease of an elbow.
I stretch in the frame of a doorway,
The duvet thrums.
Trees spike with the wind and rush towards us,
They love us.
Bamboo green and soft like paintbrushes,
The same underwater.
Leathered skin and pores,
An elephant’s eye.
A continuum of snakes and seahorses,
A centipede in a dirty bathroom.
Slime, bones, Chernobyl,
An ever-flowing fountain,
Don’t hold it, give.
I feel the music beneath me,
Jolts of insight.
If I think I am, I am.
Different ages and journeys yet she is me.
Too square or wild and rugged?
Dancing around a campfire.
It’s all there. Choose wisely.
All my life anxious. Why? Poor child.
I feel so alone.
He lies beside me. A smile. A clam.
Puzzle pieces slotting into cosiness.
Third eye bursting.
Punching the air. I could do with tears.
An angel, a light, a fairy.
The window is naked,
Birds and stars in the night.
Afraid to feel then don’t want it to end.
Food. Clingfilm. I make the bed.
Order makes me feel safe.
Resist. Control. I can’t.
I don’t want. I want so hard.
Perfection. Trying. That’s not your way.
Built the only way I knew how.
Lie in the dusty earth. I never want to get up.
Give up. Let go. Let go.
Start from the beginning.
I don’t know anything.
There’s a flower. And it’s white.