My words are mislaid and dispersed within your tender, fleshy vessel; like an astrayed entity scouring a nebulous, dense and emulsified forest. I urge you to seek and decrypt these incoherent, defaced words that are buckled and suspended on adhesive webs of strained, charred branches.

— M. Rose


If you could, would you choose to forget and set aflame to the inflictions that stench of regret?

– 16.09 M. Rose

Sat in the place we first met, I write this dishevelled, rain soaked note. Pain and anger, I can’t stand it. My jittering hand clasps a glass of ice, whiskey, two slices limes and I shudder under my damp clothing. I can’t stand this. My jaw is aching, my limbs are clenched, the bartender is watching me now. Fuck. I can’t stop my limbs shaking. And now everyone is looking whilst I stare into the past.

15.09 M. Rose