Anchorhold

I am framed through the hagioscope, but this is not your prison. They walled you in with freedom, and you sang your own death, and spread pity on all the words that followed. They all want saving but they’re not yours to save. One foot embedded in ancient stone, the other pointed as you rise.... Continue Reading →

Aged Thirteen and Late in Bed

(Written at 13, re-written at 20 and found in the archives at 30-and-a-bit) Aged thirteen and late in bed, I realised that one day I’d be dead. My stomach gave a sudden jolt, and in me found a strange revolt, against the idea of ever ending, and I wondered about bending, time around me so... Continue Reading →

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