I knew he was guilty

You can always tell

It’s the eyes, they’re the windows to the soul

And look at him, he’s got evil eyes

He’s got no soul

Taken in for questioning

Well, that’s the same as being guilty

Yes, definitely guilty

I never liked him you know

I always said there was something…..

Wrong about him

He has that way about him.

Have you seen the news?

He’s been released…..

Without charge

Say’s he didn’t do it.

Of course I never thought he did

It’s the eyes, he’s got nice eyes

You can trust those eyes

Not like that one they’ve got now

Now he’s got evil eyes

They’re the windows to the soul you know?

Of course, I always liked him.


The fragments of me fall through the holes in my psyche

Trying to disentangle fact from fiction, warmth from lies

Seeing myself through the barriers of my eyes

The disengagement from reality, the remote totality

Of a world where I am disenfranchised

Disabled, loner, looney, lifetime member of the forgotten club

Judged through a window fogged up by beliefs

Misrepresented facts that equate with fiction

The soul curator of my destiny

It is I, not the state, not the doctors not you

You need to go there to come back again

To come back to yourself, your truth, your lies don’t exist

Just here and now and you and me, we are all there is

The rest is silence.


Something broke along the way……….

Like a vase smashing, falling to the floor

Desperate attempts to repair the cracks

Cannot not hide the weakness left behind

Fractured. Not broken

From a distance the vase is perfect

But look closer and hairline cracks are visible

There is something beautiful in the pattern of its fracturing

A delicate memory of past damage

The vase is diminished of her utility

Filled with water one soon begins to see her fragility

She cannot hold the world as she used to

Her body not fit for purpose

But yet still beautiful in her fragility she remains

An ornament on a shelf

Admired but considered useless.


We kicked off our shoes and ran through the fields

Disturbed not by heat nor winter’s chills

The thrill in our hearts, The strength in our bones

Never realising we were really alone

Two souls united, two hearts alive

Not realising that time would cause a divide

We were so young and life was a game

Now we are older and nothings’ the same

We went our own ways, you changed in your heart

Two seeds from an acorn that grew apart

The people we were have changed now we’re grown

I never realised I was really alone.


Sometimes it hits me like a bolt from the blue

I think I’m ok and then I see you

I remember the way you made us all smile

I remember your jokes and your unique sense of style

I remember the holidays and daytrips we had

I remember your illness and when things went bad

I remember your laugh, through the tears and the pain

I remember when you had to start over again

I remember the way you were always there

I remember the love that you wanted to share

I remember feeling that you deserved more

I remember feeling…………

I closed my eyes and in a blink you were gone.

Sometimes it hits me like a bolt from the blue

That you are not here, and I can’t see you.


Why do we stay together?

Is it the children?

Is it love?

Is it the co-dependency that years of isolation brings?

My love for you is like a connundrum

Something hard to describe or fathom

You are my nemesis and my best friend

An enemy who helps me and loves me

I feel smothered by your existence

Yet bound to you in emotion

My hearts yearns to be free

Yet laments your leaving

Like Taylor and Burton

Without the affairs, the drugs and the money

We are destined to remain a constant

In this world of change, our irregular love affair.

Me With You


Sometimes the loneliness envelops me

It burns at my soul and makes it hard to breathe

I feel the searing pain of jealousy

As I look at those around me

Unbothered. Happy.

They see people, interact with them

I am nothing but the here and now

I do not know them, they do not see me

No-one does.


My life is these four walls

The occasional glimpse of another life

At meetings, passing strangers on the street

Desperate to make contact

Closed. Alone.


The space between

The missing link

The painful emotions

That make you think

The ticking and tocking

The tooing and froing

The mass of confusion

The where am I going

The confidence, The failing

The feeling unease

The lowest ebb

Your heart beating “please”

The person you are

The one that is seen

The questions, The answers

The Space Inbetween


Weary, Confused and Longing

For a chance to sleep and to dream

Feeling the memories of another day

Slip between my fingers

As my brain recycles through the wasteland

Of the pointless things we believe

Feeling my energy zapping

As I fall through the cracks on the floor



roaming from A to B

I have no answers

Only the loneliness of a questioning soul

I see frameless heads on nameless walls

I watch the world existing without me in it

I am around people and drowning in a cacophony of sound


I am alone again and the world is empty


I know some mums feel oh so proud

Of the lines they have accrued

The silver lines, the softer flesh

The marks that shout “I gave LIFE!”

But I lament,

They do not feel like badges of great pride

Of proud battle scars that scream out

“I am woman, I am mother, hear me roar”

They are marks of loss of an identity

I used to hold tight to

A hangover of failure, a reminder of imperfection

A notelet detailing defeat

I hear mothers moan and deride my complaints

Women who believe to err is divine

However, as an ageing ex- fatty, ex-anorexic, ex bulimic

Now wheelchair bound woman, I am lost.

When you can barely move and your arms are weak

And pregnancies left you with excess baggage

It is harder to lose, to remove yourself from the carousel

Self-hating, self-deprecating, self-pity

Revolving, turning, waltzing

Dancing around your emotions

Feeling a fake when your heart cannot accept

The new you, this mum body