I stood still and watched the sun drip
across a candy-coloured skyline and
melt into a puddle on the pavement.
Clouds hung suspended in the air like
wavering pegs on a washing line
anticipating, frozen, a ghost trapped
between two sides. Propelled into
motion, the blanket of fog descends
and suffocates. Wraps itself around
the earth’s neck and breathes.
Squeezing its victim into submission,
this is the kiss before the bite.
Sometimes I am forced to remember.
In the transient passing of nature: a
wisp of smoke, the crunch of gravel,
the flicker of a firefly. I once thought
I saw a shadow there. In silent screams
the moon pulsates and I find myself catching
honey between the cracks, scooping handfuls into
my mouth for there is fear of forgetting to taste.
I will watch the hourglass until the sand begins to
flow backwards. It never does but, darling, we have
waded in too deep to turn back now. It is only July,
I remind myself. Flowers still have time to bloom;
I am just a negative waiting to develop.

Today, I am eighteen
And I'm going to the park later but sitting in the dark right now is honestly the only thing I need
Eighteen
I can buy cigarettes and lighters - responsibility is everything and it's like all these chains are getting tighter
I'm eighteen
I can get ***** magazines
go into bars, but I can't drink
And if I break the law my adult record'll forever be unclean
Eighteen, im all grown up now- act professional, be completely unsusceptible to childish things like tears and tambourines
Eighteen-
and this feels just like a dream, like a surrealist painting come to life but nothing's changed at all
And I'm finding myself missing
Seventeen