I sit alone on the sofa
a book open on my lap
my passport to somewhere else
I don’t know where my reality lies
Is it in the bright spring sunshine
outside my window
or is it among the shadows
that fill my mind?
The shadows blot out the sun
like the shadows
of gathering storm clouds
thunder rumbles across an empty plain
where I stumble and crawl
Is it less real
because it is in my mind?
Who can say
which is right
and which is wrong
and so I escape into
someone else’s words
someone else’s
imagined reality.

Some nightmares are real

How quiet are the footsteps
creeping into my room
How gentle the hands
that lift me from my bed
How soft the voices
that hush my frightened cries
How soothing the motion of the car
taking me far from home

So cold the night
so pale the moonlight
on my bare skin
so brutal the torture
inflicted on my tiny body
shattering my mind
into a thousand pieces

How gentle the hands
that wash away the blood
and dress me in my nightgown
How welcome the sleep
given in a glass of bitter potion
I wake alone in my bed
cold and afraid
Go back to sleep little one
it was just a nightmare.


If I should cross into forsaken places…


If I should cross into forsaken places…

….what may I find?

Only the desolate ruins of a bygone life

long abandoned?

Or could there be treasures unknown

waiting in the dark places,

left behind and lost

when I ran from the memories,

when I chose the mists of oblivion?

One foot on the bridge

spanning the lies I told myself

to escape remembering,

I search within for the courage

I know I must have had to survive.

To go forward into the past,

to search and discover,

or to hide forever from myself

in a groundless future?



Lost in the past



The fallen


It was in the evening of your life

when your body gave way

and you sank to the floor.

Even though I wasn’t there

I have never stopped seeing you fall

over and over again.

You had been falling for years.

As the memories came

so the questions flew at you

like arrows,

each one piercing your armour,

allowing fear in through the holes,

fear that you might get found out.

I tried to fool myself into believing

it was guilt that was crippling you

but now the final pieces

have slotted together

and I know better

than to think good of you.

Even as you sat me on your lap

and sang to me,

making me believe I was special and loved,

you were giving me away

to the highest bidder

It was my money

that bought your house.

I paid for that house with my sanity

but you died

and left me with nothing

but the hatred in my heart.

You are gone now

You will never take back the blame

that was rightfully yours

and you will never know

my forgiveness.




What do you do
when you are five years old
and your mother
shuts you away
because she can’t bear to look at you?
In your short life
she has given
no love or cuddles,
only bewildering rage and anger
no matter how hard you try to be good
it is never good enough.
Your body is small,
next to you she is very big
and when her face is in your face
shouting at you
and her hands are on your shoulders
shaking you
you fear you might die.
She shouts
I’ll shake the living daylights out of you.
Maybe one day she did
and you are no longer a real person,
only a shadow in the dark.
How do you know
if you are still alive?