I’ve fallen and I don’t want to get up

Oh no, it’s happening again
I’m slipping
I’ve fallen
Damnit, I knew this would happen
Shouldn’t have worn heels
In this quicksand
Quicksilver pit
You are like a vortex
Of ooh’s and ahh’s
I can’t help but to teeter on the edge
Desperate for a peek
Desperate for your sole attention
Until I’m not teetering anymore
I’m the centre of your latest hurricane
No need to conjure up another
Baby, it’s beautiful in here
Why didn’t you tell me
You were dressed to the nines
Waiting in your ballroom
For me to dance with you?

Life sucks and then it’s over

I write vivaciously in twelve point Didot on my iPhone. Trying to silence the pounding of language in my head by getting it all out. Setting the shitful shit free so I don’t have to hear it anymore, maybe I’ll sleep tonight, maybe not. I’m sick to death of a lot of things. Sickest of feeling lost and alone. 

I’m always halfway. Halfway between homeless and stable, halfway between happiness and depression, halfway between being loved and disregarded. 

Which way is forward? I don’t know. I feel like Jon Snow, knowing nothing even when all this information is constantly berating me. Got ninety nine problems and I’m all of them. I’m stuck in a parallel universe. I’m stuck behind glass, I can see you but I can’t hear you. Must be a one way mirror because you don’t even know I’m there. 

C’est la vie

       —am I right?

I’ve got a load of washing that needs tending to, no need to split the colours because it’s all black anyway, but a delicates bag wouldn’t go astray. I’m trying with all my might to switch my thought path, take myself away to a better place. I am in love with love. I want it to envelop me and romance me onward and upward. Take all my black and brighten it with a little with colour lustre shampoo. 

Sitting in the night again, I always find myself here. Alone and in the dark but it’s not metaphorical this time. It’s my safe place, I can’t see the faces of those who pass me by and they can’t see mine. What a blessing. I can be anything in the dark. Foul ugly creature of plague and misery. The most beautiful body to ever have lived born of desire and jealousy but it’s not lit so you can’t see. And really, why should you need to? It’s not about the visual it’s about the sound. 

I’m always writing and reading, writing and creating, writing and loving. Pleasure, pain, it makes no matter. Everything is scaled and carefully measured. I just want to live and let live. I wanna move and love and linger. Prance in the sunshine, hunt in the moonlight. Love infinitely; I’m a hopeless romantic, you see. Life doesn’t have to be so complex, does it? Can I not just be and laugh even when it’s inappropriate? Have a mouthful of bourbon even though I’m not a drinker and a cigarette though I’m not a smoker, to calm my nerves? 

You know why? It’s because everything threatens to kill us. Can’t eat anything coloured blue because it might give me cancer. Can’t watch too much television because my eyes might go square. Can’t board a plane to anywhere because it might explode and fall out of the sky. Can’t walk through my own city without sanitising my hands sixty thousand times ’cause I might catch a bad case of death. But I’m not particularly afraid of dying so I’ll be a little edgey and snack on a bowl of blue m&m’s while I watch a marathon of my favourite films just inches from the monitor on a plane to god knows where without any rubbing alcohol. 

So, I’ll type and lust and wander alone with my thoughts. It’s a dangerous place and I might get lost if I’m not careful. Better not trip on my own foot and fall into some sneaky crevasse, they’re opening up all around me. 

I’ve got dinner to cook and all the ingredients are laid out with obsessive compulsiveness. Everything in its place, ready to be butchered and burnt. I don’t think I could kill a person but I sure can dice up a slab of beef real nice. I’ll sear this and sauté that until it’s steaming hot and served on the table, garnished for the sake of beauty. I am always so happy in the kitchen when I’m cooking for those who appreciate it. It’s a mode of transportation in itself. Breathe in, stir, breathe out, chop, dance, dance, dance; watch my fingers or you’ll be eating me tonight. 

It might be time to rest, doze, maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a while and see what happens. I can lucid dream so perhaps I’ll star in my own mindfuck film, this ain’t my first rodeo so I’ll get scared then save myself. Wish reality was this easy to manipulate. Wanna go somewhere? I’ll just teleport. Wanna see the bottom of the ocean? I’ll just take us down in my uncrushable yellow submarine. Wanna make out? Wait.. We can do that here and now, ha ha ha. 

Flip the light off and cosy down, better charge my phone or I’ll be bored on the train tomorrow. It’s wintertime so I’m covered in microfibre sheets and fluffy blankets. I’ll read your prose until I shut down completely and let the monster in my mind takeover. 

Honey, you’ll drive

I am a good driver, my mother told me that. But I hate driving. I don’t want to be responsible for the lives around me like that. They’re all hanging in too delicate a balance. I love being driven though, sitting for hours in a car. Silence, sound. Makes no matter if I’m in good company. Stopping to catch dinner then driving on into the darkness.

I love when the fog rolls in around the wheels, it feels like I’m floating over the earth. Kind of like the ghost I seem to be.

And when the car grinds to a halt at the foot of some wooded mountain I look up, can’t see the top because it’s shrouded in cloud the same way I wear velvet. Imagine if it all came crashing down and squashed me as flat as a crepe, that would make for a short tale indeed.

I can’t decide whether I want to walk, skip or dance. Maybe I’ll just stay in the safety of this metal box with you, recline my passenger seat and stare at the stars through the glass in the ceiling. I tried to count them once, think I got to one thousand and something before my eyes gave out or I fell asleep —I can’t quite remember.


You’re the first to break the silence. I’m relieved, I would have said something silly anyway. But now you have done it, you have opened the floodgates. Grab the grey cable knit throw I threw in the boot last week and get cosy, sweetheart, we could be here for days. Don’t worry, I brought snacks and cigarettes enough to smoke a rabbit out of its burrow. We won’t get bored, can’t get lonely, so it’s safe to say that until our legs numb from our seats and we run out of sea salt and vinegar chips and fags to smoke we’ll be happy in good company.

We tell tales, no bullshit or exaggeration because we’re real like that. We need not false stories because ours are enough. Peacock impressive and perfectly shitty. We’re broken things but we can mend each other, if you wanna. Stitch our souls back up, might accidentally sew yours to mine if you don’t mind. The best part is still coming. The best part is that we will feel every suture needling through our souls while we sew. It’ll hurt and I’ll cry but you’re a man so you swallow the ouch. It’ll break you eventually and then you’ll cry too, into my arms, my skin will soak up your tears like moisture injection.

We fog up the glass before we drive home. It’s not a necessity, it’s a longing. We sing at the top of our lungs and my voice breaks but yours won’t. We make each other cry-laugh, it’s my favourite kind of hysterical fit, can’t stop laughing. Laugh until my stomach aches and my cheeks are covered with run mascara and I literally can’t stop. Sobbing tears of happiness now. Tears of elation now. And you’re laughing along with me, that smile killing me because your teeth are so straight and your lips are so full. I can’t believe we share this dark, twisted humour. For a second I thought I was the only fucked up one. But you’re a gentleman and won’t make fun of me, you’ll make fun of yourself. Old fashioned and quite the charmer, I bet you’ve thrown many women into fits like these and I’m a jealous girl so you won’t tell me about it.

We’ve run out of naughty, fatty food and naughty, toxic poison so you turn the key in the ignition and we humm on outta there. You put on jazz, metal and j-pop. Eclectic taste that keeps me guessing, eclectic taste like mine. It’s probably six a.m. and I’m probably tired in another dimension. But with you I could stay up for days on end, I need to know your life from start to present because I’ll live it from here on out.

I’m a good driver, you tell me, but you don’t make me take the wheel, you were just curious to know how it feels when I’m in control. We are still hours from home and dawn is breaking outside our cocoon. You pull over to watch the sunrise and tell me how beautiful it is and that it’s a miracle the earth turns to share its light but it’s not as great a miracle as our lives connecting. I blush, I’m speechless, you always do this to me. You lay your hand on my thigh, kiss my forehead and pedal to the metal, we’re off again.

It’s well into the morning now and we’re sitting pretty. Almost home but you say you’re hungry and there’s this great little place downtown. You order for the both of us, guessing that I’d like eggs benedict, hold the bacon, with smoked salmon on the side and thinking you could go for French toast blanketed in cinnamon sugar and raspberry coulee. You order us both a coffee, “Vienna please”, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not a coffee drinker but I’ll take the taste, just for you. You don’t let me take my first bite because last night you told me I’m your princess so you’ll feed it to me then give me some of yours. I say “I’ll pay, split the bill at least, thank you for taking me to breakfast, darling”. You are just too damn good to me, chivalrous to the last drop of lifeblood.

We’ve been awake for I don’t even know how many hours but we’re still buzzing. Energy still high because we’re together. Curb the bend into our driveway and slow to a halt, park out from undercover because it’s raining and you want to feel the water kiss your face and wet our clothes. It’s all an excuse to see me take mine off but I’ll play your game, it’s always fun to be with you. You carry me from the lounge to the bathroom and put me in the bathtub. Somehow it was ready and waiting even though we only got home five minutes ago, or has it been five hours? I can’t tell anymore and times moving no matter the speed. It’s full of bubbles and smells like patchouli, my body sinks below the surface and so does my soul. Complete immersion, blissful, restful, don’t fall asleep now.

You set a stool beside the tub, dangle your feet in with your trousers off and a book in hand. You’ve poured me a glass of Kraken dark rum on the rocks, those funny little metallic ice cubes clink, clink, clink so your drink doesn’t water itself down. You’ve poured yourself something else but in candlelight and without a sip I don’t know what it is. So, you begin reading a novel you love aloud to me and I am instantly taken away. Eyes closed, heart open. Listening to every syllable float around in the air. The water is getting cold and I realise you’ve been reading to me in a language other than my own, I thought I could understand you but I’m simple and only know English. How strange, I could have sworn you were reading about a forest fire, a shipwreck and outer space.

Flick on a movie. Foreign if you want to read more, horror if you want me to press in close. Not really afraid but it’s nice when I pretend. You choose a Ghibli film that we’ve both seen, it’s just as wonderful as the first time I saw it. So many colours painted on the screen and I’m captivated by the story, leaning my face closer to the television set. You’re not watching the movie, you’re watching me. Smile on your face is the only light in our dim bedroom. I’m unaware of your attention but the fly on the wall is memorising your expressive eyes soaking the moment in. I’m not much to look at, freshly washed and wearing nothing but your tee and a pair of lace knickers. My hair is still drip, drip, dripping onto our sheets, my shirt, your body tangled around mine.

The film credits roll, I tell you how I love Hayao Miyazaki. You don’t say anything but you’ve got this glint in your eyes. You tell me how you love me and I cry again. I do an awful lot of crying but you don’t mind. It’s endearing and shows I care is what you tell me. Soft cotton sheets and a thousand cushions surround me in our bed but I don’t feel anything as much as I feel you holding me. We’re still not tired, I think it’s been two days since we slept, so we talk a little more under the covers. You tell me I should be resting, “your body needs sleep!”, you say. You stroke my hair and kiss my neck. Lulling me into unconsciousness with your honeysuckle voice. Let’s sleep a damn long while, when we wake can we go for a drive?

My name

The syllables of my name roll off your tongue like hot syrup; Ka – Mill. The whispered sound lulls through the passages of my mind, a gentle wonder; simmering thought. I can feel the vibrations in the air. Pitter pattering, licking at my prickled skin. Raising hairs and sending sweet chills down my spine. 
I feel like a serpent. Tongue tasting for the path I must take. A great unknown as the universe is seemingly. Starlight attempting to guide me but I am blind, moonlight ushering my way but I cannot see and no one will hear my truth or aid me. 

The wind wants to throw me further from my path into darkness, an infinite abyss with no hope of sight in my future. I am desperate for an entire sensory experience but with eyes failing I feel hopeless. The earth beneath my sweeping body is cool and damp, it tastes like nougat; of my youth and of hope. Wistfulness, freedom, enveloping hugs and kisses on my lush, blood filled cheeks. 

I have evolved. Become limber and aware of my own self. How I have come to know my body, in all its motion and scars. I know its softness and where each bone manages to push at its surface, creating my only hardness. I know my sailors mouth and its volatility, I know how fiery I can be, raw like an open wound that stings with every sharp word and grain of salt. I know how small my frame is, how tiny my feet are – they haven’t grown since I was twelve -, the tactility of my fingers that dance gracefully with brushes and pencils alike. It is supposed to be a temple but I have disgraced its holiness and abused its reliance at times and for that I am sorry. But I cannot promise cleanliness and praise always. 

My ears delight to the sharp intake of your breath as I surprise you with a kiss so whimsical and sudden it makes my head spin, pupils dilate, heart flutter. We doze, then. Relishing in each other’s warmth and safety, quiet like mice in the dark. I daren’t peep a glance through the evening haze at your restful face; I have found the serenity that I had long misplaced. 

Letting you in

Let me tell you some things
Let me let you in..

My favourite scent is of six Midvale Avenue at Christmas time. It smelled of zimtsterne baking and the Christmas tree alight with Roman candles. It sounded like love and laughter, my whole family coming together in this funny white brick house with a big rose garden. Everyone had a red car. My brother and I used to leave our favourite shoes out for Saint Nic to bring us the gifts we hoped for, I’d always ask for books. I learnt to make fresh wreaths and I always loved wrapping presents. 

Smoke and cinnamon.

Sometimes I’ll have a cigarette to feel closer to my Opa. I wish he could see me now, I think he’d be proud to know that I have such interest in my heritage and that I’m always chasing my dreams. I lost him when I was little, he smoked like a chimney in the wintertime. I miss him every day. He was so in love with my Oma. I’ll never forget the way he’d pronounce her name, ‘Rosemarie’ in heavy accent. He valued knowledge and taught me to value words. 

I got my creative genes partly from him and partly from my father who nearly died when I was ten, he’s a different man now but I love him all the same. 

I never visit my parents because I loathe where I grew up. 

I was raised to love hard; a blessing and curse. Now I believe that’s what makes the world go ’round. Everyone has a soulmate you just have to find them..

I still don’t know how to pronounce my name properly. My parents say both Ka-meal and Ka-mill. I prefer the latter, it’s more dainty. 

I have an ongoing battle with my wardrobe. I’m always torn between looking classically feminine or punky and boyish. It sounds silly when I write it down. 

I sleep with rain sounds playing because I love listening and don’t like being alone. Inflection is everything in conversation and I never go anywhere or do anything without music. I think it keeps me sane, probably saved me more than once. 

I shower in dim lighting only and sing all the while. Though my voice isn’t trained and I probably sound awful, but it makes me happy.  

My eyes get bluer when I’m excited and the same goes when I cry. Also when it’s summertime, I’m not sure how it works, my mothers eyes are the same. 

I’m so scared that you won’t like me in reality..

Because in text you don’t have to hear me talk or laugh

Or hear me singing in the shower, ha ha

Learn my mannerisms

Notice that I touch my hair constantly

And start getting cross when I’m hungry

And roll my eyes a lot because people frustrate me

And that when I get nervous I’m really bad at holding eye contact

What if I bother you?

What if you don’t like how I walk or how unfit I am?

What if you don’t like how easily distracted I am by a pretty pair of shoes or a great haircut?

Or how I predominantly use chopsticks and slurp when I eat ramen?

What if you don’t like how I frown when I read?

Or how I speak a running commentary when I watch films?

What if you don’t like the perfume I wear?
(Guerlain, la petite robe noir —by the way)

What if my love for high heels drives you insane?

Or if my vanity is irritating?

Or if you hate me in my comfy clothes?

What if I talk too much
Or too little?

And I overanalyse every aspect of my life. Just in case you can’t tell. 

Here’s how it happened; here’s how it goes

Felt shitty ninety percent of the time
Until you spoke up and my heart stopped
How’d you know I needed rescuing?
Just a little push to help me take control
Leave what needed to be left
Past is the past
Put myself first for the first time in my life
Woke me up; stirred stagnant emotion
I thought I was void of these feelings
I don’t know what my world was
Other than sadness and frustration
But I want it to be perpetually something.. 

Striving for happiness
Striving for elation
Ecstasy, intimacy, raw pleasure
I won’t apologise for being vocal
I’m choosing to be happy now ’cause I know being there
Is just around the corner
I know it’s there for the taking
I’m reaching and don’t you doubt it
But in a city so far from yours
It’s only the horizon I see
Better start planning, sweetheart

I’ve got to change it, move it, shift it
Switch gears and zoom on over
You’ve reminded me
Time and time again
It’s not being there with you
That’s the impossibility, ‘that’s not it’ you said
Sit beside you on the sofa
And devour a book you love
‘Cause words are precious to the both of us
Spoken to get drunk on
Listen to your confessions, eyes lit, absorbing
I’ll remember every word so don’t skip the gorey parts

I’m a woman now
Not the girl you first knew
Same same but different
I’ve evolved since last we spoke
I think you’ll like me better now
I know my mind better now
I know my body better now
I know you’ve grown, too
But you always knew who you were
I’ve found myself
I’ve got confidence but I’m not cocky
I’ve got a sailors mouth, sorry ’bout it

Wearing layers of lace and satin
Throw in some nylon for vintage sake
Back seamed stockings
Thigh high, snapped onto my garter belt
—good luck taking that off later
Soft cup brassiere, don’t want to mislead you
Waist cinched to the point of breathlessness
I’ve got matte black polish on
Red lipstick, it’s kiss proof
We’ll test that out I’m sure
Dark shadow and brows that could kill
I know how to pretty myself up

Put on some music, baby
We’ll dance foxtrot and ballroom 
I could dazzle you with winding movement
You could seduce me with a look
Set the floor ablaze with friction
See my hair bouncing?
Feel your strength lead me, I like it
I’ll dress up for you
Dress down for you
Discard my ensemble altogether for you
We don’t need clothes
Where we’re headed 

Then we’ll dance a different waltz
I can be anything you want
But I get the feeling you want me authentic
I could fuck you stupid
Until you don’t know which way is up
Whether it’s day or night
And you forget how to breathe
Or I could move slowly and build the drama
Ball’s in your court, handsome
Do you just want to take the reigns 
And show me love like I’ve never known?
I’m guaranteed to scream, hope that’s okay

For now, I’m stuck in waiting
I’ll have to tease you through the phone
Pack up a suitcase
Fill it with black on black on black
Won’t promise I’ll leave my heels behind
Board that plane, land in your arms
Leave a burning hot kiss on your lips
Star studded mouths catching up on lost time
Can’t wait to visit
Maybe you’d ask me to stay
I’d say yes, but you know that
You can always count on me, darlin’ 

Childlike arachnid

With what magic do you act?You make me feel like a child again

Nervous with excitement 

For every word to come

For every motion to be made

For every breath to sound

Though, I have no comprehension

Of your grasp

Of being betwixt your limbs

Of being laced through your mind

Tangled like a cobweb

You cannot sweep away

Although you have become

Quite fond of the spider


It is always so peaceful to be surrounded by the night, menacing though it may seem in in its seductive darkness. My part of the world is a different place when it sleeps, at half past two in the morning. Whilst I sit amongst the gloom I feel a certain safety. Held in its gentle grasp I am silent and shrouded. Only the wind may whisper in my ear. The cold air kisses me endlessly and promises never to let me go so long as I have want for its embrace. Mother Nature is the only being not to judge or lie. She is never unfaithful and will not cheat you. She is an honest spirit; loving you so long as you love her, too. 
Mother Nature’s earth, at its core, holds dear each and every being it raises. It does not discriminate if you are born a plant or a microorganism, or a weirdo. It wants you to live; until you die. It wants to nurture you and give you all it can, it only takes you back so it can give more life and love and purity. 

I know the refuge of Mother Nature and I respect her waxing and waning; giving and taking. She gives all her energy for the grace of life yet humanity gives her nothing in return. What a sad notion that is; would you treat your own birth mother with such disregard? She does not want to hurt you but if you push her far enough you will experience her wrath, of all the pain and suffering she endures but to feed you and give you clean, cold air to breathe. The simple, untainted life on this planet knows order while people, filthy and raw, know only their own selfish greed.