NaPoWriMo – Day One

I crumple at the sound of my voice my words hardly my own as I stumble over old lies, ones I’ve told before. It’s grating on me now pulling tight at my skin. I speak in broken dirges as a person I barely recognise, tiny letters scribbled to make up …

Poetry: Pharmacy Blues

We deal in death it walks through the doors in the shadows of the old sometimes staying and circling around the aisles and our thoughts before leaving with another. It is rarely committed to just one, always fleeting, flitting between one and the other. We dole death out in small …