The tree grew around Gary and he didn’t struggle, he was glad to be hemmed in.

The walls shot up in growing panels and clicked into natural place,

he was enveloped in the smooth, the woody gnarls on the outside, protecting him from the elements, and a wooden smile etched into his face.

Bill had planted the seed, and when he found Gary set inside so perfect, he wished he’d hacked more heartily with his hatchet.

He imagined Gary like the hazelnut in a toffee, cut in perfect half, and the wooden smile jumped across, rooting, delving, fingers rifling in his nut.


Night of the clubbing dead

Dream of viciousness and feeling lost.

Dream of bending over edges in high places and short skirts.

Dream of dark skies hiding neon colours in bricked rectangles.

Dream of bony fingers just clinging to their hinges, finding their way towards your mouth. Sucking them is accompanied by the very real fear that they might come off and you’ll be holding them between your lips.

Dream of violent altercation over who pissed on the floor, queue staying stubbornly intact all the while, through angry eyebrows and raised voices, a slammed door and a tut.

Dream of being summoned out with an arm in the air, giving a hateful glare but still having to traipse home with aching nubs for feet and never actually getting there.

Marble golem made of white with heart of unknown colour

Marble golem made of white with heart of unknown colour,

Image of a jewel set in pearly granite, static or with a life-full thump?

Picture clashes with suggestive possibility of bone-thin casing

Spread like icing over cake.

Marble golem’s working cogs click or turn in silence.

Hinges hidden by a falter in my vision or by the perceived being, filled with elusivity?

How much of you is your ivory outside, are you dense or hollow?

If I cracked you would you emerge gasping, or would you lie in pathetic pieces of regret?


Demon taps on the window.


Demon taps on the door.


Demon taps on your bedframe.

Demon taps on the floor.

Demon taps on the lightbulb


Demon taps on the fridge.

Demon taps on the bathroom mirror, but not from the side you think.

empty face

here’s the place

the place with no face

the place with the space to grow a face but without the intention

because the face is a needless accessory and in the gap something greater can grow,

in the gap the unknown becomes living and the space that should be occupied

by a face is more meaningful without one


this place, this easel must remain blank

i draw this figure here, but the face has to stay away

because it’s edgy and everyone likes an edge right

the hood must stay up, the back must stay turned and the drawing on the earth must remain faceless or it’s just too familiar when the figure becomes a man or a woman or anything other than just that,

a shape, a spectre with an inbuilt mask to push someone from curiosity to fear

when they try and fill in the blanks with the worst thing they can think of