kate-morganWhisper

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English language (spoken poetry)There are 1,013,913 words in the English language, and not one of them describes how I feel about you, about us. / I used to say you were my strawberry jam, my little preserve that I would lay and spread on the table each morning, and I would lick my lips and say 'my God isn't she magnificent'. / I was your hero, your savior, your Christ that you had at Sundays Eucharist, and thank God you did. You dissolved in my mouth like that little piece of bread called a body but you tasted of everything instead of nothing, and **** me for thinking of you instead of God, thinking of you as my altar as I said 'hail Mary' and I worshiped you like a school girl with an orange full of candles in her hand, and for that God will **** me. He will **** me to hell but I don't care as the Universe lives under your tongue and everything I had ever dreamed of was right there in the right hand corner of your mouth.

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CuntrolI lost cuntrol when I was nine years old. / Mother took my hand off my crotch yet left my brother to the confinement of his **** / Girls good, boys bad, and oh no sweetheart your beauty is your only power.

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The AlchemistI met her in the parking lot of a liquor store one Friday night with my naked body hidden beneath a dressing gown. / I’d put it on whilst I finished the gin from my 20th birthday within my boyfriends closet as he drank his **** down in beer and asked why I was in the closet. / Impotent, it was a quick exit as I thanked the drink for making me able to ride my bike back minus the safety of a sanitary towel, without my **** left to think of his grunts and groans and his hands which branded my thighs as he fed me lies that it was just in the moment; his finger prints left signatures citing his latest triumph of lasting one hundred point thirteen seconds.

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Trumpet Lungs (spoken poetry)My lungs are beating like they have swallowed my heart whole. / Divided on who she loved more, they choke my breath so I taste sour gummy bears as I curl over wounded, / a victim of one of loves ****** battles.

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Artichoke HeartsI am an empty jar / of artichoke / hearts.

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Redemption (spoken poetry)Forgive me for the ink that strains your innocent purity with words I don't even understand. / Pick up your rubber and erase my right hand with swift flick of the wrist / and a gentle caress for you cannot forgive me for what I have done,

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Words you should have heard. Dedicated to Kate Morgan, aged 8.Darling, you can be anything you want to be. / Just pick yourself like a chocolate. Admire the red foil that engulfs your small fingertips with that smile you do as the caramel swims between your rose tinted lips. / Pick yourself like a flower, like that snow drop the fairies plant every February under the apple tree, or that single rose that pricked your finger, the red one you once gave me.

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Straight lines (spoken poetry)My mother said we were different. / Round peg, square hole, / but you still put your red peg right through my chest

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