Creative Writing: McCullin Irishman

This hair is no longer hair Not like we knew it Not strands but thickets A hard hat of ash Some proper dust-up Speckles on a face, in its...

Creative Writing: A Beauty and Her Beast

The roses trembled. "Beauty," said Beast, and blinked large cow-like eyes. She glanced at them too, lips pursed. "Yes. I suppose so." The petals were starting to...

Creative Writing: Addiction

I am what I am, or rather what I cease to be. That is Beauty. I am the beast, mongrel, the Pug-faced bitch Who sniffs the bin...

Creative Writing: Cellulite

‘I read it from cover to cover and every article in it, everything that it was saying, could be condensed down into one short...

Creative Writing: Untitled

Paris in the springtime and the whole city snaps from a flagpole I am not your rose or hyacinth girl Stop comparing me to flowers I want to be more...

Creative Writing: Beauty of Music

There’s nothing like a song. Songs we remember, songs we forget, songs we live in. It’s intangible - something frozen in a few minutes...