London writer inviting psychic exploration into the human condition.

It’s a lot easier to sound real than it is be it

And I’ll lose sense of time

I am only what I am in the moment

I knock my head to knock the sense back in

Fifteen
And fragile.

I’m opening boxes, fumbling as I try to catch the words to explain myself and I fail

Until you’ve tried to convince people that you’re amazing whilst simultaneously self-deprecating

And we had a good few months
And yeah I had this weird friend once

I pulled myself together from pieces of what I thought you wanted me to be.

This soldier catches every bullet, stands bare, body riddled

We have matured, with new gravel grating against our fragile skins,