trans, nerd.


April 2016


Ambulatory anxiety,
I’m shaking at the thought;
Right now, two days to take-off
Panic, where’s my passport?
Oh it’s where it always is,
Reel it in, stop freaking out.
Travel terror troubles me.



That bleakest of reminders,

The blanket made by time-lapse,

The filth, the rot, decay of life

Gathers in the corners,

The skin on skin on skin on skin;

It’s almost time to dust again.

Calming Method

So tense for so long
A job which doesn’t want me
Nearly gone
A night resting up
In the towel dressing gown
And I stop

It smells of her.
And I smile.

Last Snap

Another snap, last blast of icy chill

Hail, rain, thunderclaps

Rainbows break the grey

With fleeting beauty

Makes one think that

Spring has stalled;

Yet undaunted, everlasting hope,

That British optimism,

Beneath my hoods I hear

An ice-cream man

Doing business

In the squall.


The Sandman Cometh

A lone dream’s not prophetic,
It is usually agreed
That one should not act upon
The themes within a dream,
But when the theme repeats
And it becomes an urgent feeling
That’s the point one should awake,
Arise and have a wee.

Even Stone Melts

Above and beyond
The call of man
I hid for years
And then came down
To find a love
And fall again.
I found her and
I’m fallen
All over

The First of May

May ran through the park, her laces whipping at the backs of her calves, threatening to tear through her tights and let in even more cold. She should know the way, she always knows where she is, but something is off tonight. She has no sense of place, no spatial awareness. She keeps tripping, stumbling, but not quite falling.

No time to stop no time for laces keep running reach the lion reach the lion, she mentally chanted in time with her rasping knife-breaths, reach the lion.

Her thighs began to burn, she could feel her knees swelling from old injuries and the tired, pounding footfalls that have been the motif of the evening. Her trainers, lacking arch support, were ruining her feet. She could feel bones grating which should never meet. She chanced a glance behind to see if she was still being pursued but of course you fucking are, May! Why look? Why fucking look? Never ever fucking look! Why’s it weird, where am I now?

May stumbled again, lost to her thoughts, her twisted inner-loathing swamping everything except the last ember of survival. Sweat despite cold. Dropping. Shit slow. Pain. Knees. Feet. Every step sounds like a bellyflop, a thwap of agony arcing up through her skeleton, jiggling her eyes and thoughts, shaking the devils loose. Her scream started somewhere in her hips, scorching every blood vessel on its way past until it broke free through her bared teeth, a sanguine horror-wail, audible for miles.

She stopped and dropped to her knees, blinking at the greyscale spots which were now her universe. She took deep, gulping breaths to clear her vision and her mind, No point just running, I need to reach the lion. I need a direction.

May glanced upwards. The park canopy would normally be a hideous obstruction, but this winter is going on forever. The bare branches needle the sky, pointed reminders yet usefully not hiding the stars, I’ve been running north – shit. She looked around her to get park-bearings, but even with her eyes cleared it’s still coated in a blanket of fuckwhat and nothing makes any sense. Shit it, May – just run east. The lion is somewhere towards the north-east, you’re probably north enough.

She knew her pursuer had closed the gap, this is fucked, I’m fucked, reach the lion, reach the lion. May ran. Possessed, unstoppable. No trips, stumbles or falls. Running. Go, go, go. Privet shaped like elephant. Close.

She rounded the topiary and scuffed to a halt in a small gravel square.

The plinth stood empty.

Torch (flash fiction)

Torchlight danced over a set of bared, irrational teeth. The grin terrified wider, splitting the world into before and after. A voice of devilled gravel, smokestacks and scotch curled the word “run”.
I didn’t.


Earth moves without cause
Celebrates without meaning,
Reckless time moves on.

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