Tag: Poetry

Creative Writing

LONELINESS IS A FUCKING DRUG

Loneliness is a fucking drug. Once you first taste loneliness, It is as addictive, As hard to quit As the hardest drug I know. The hardest drug I know Is cocodomol. Cocodomol became my friend When at 13 I hurt my hip And I needed a full night’s sleep, When at 15 I first felt…

Creative Writing

Out of Time

‘Time is running out of time’ and I’m not happy with myself ‘Time is running out of time’ in the absence of mother’s help ‘Time is running out of time’ and I’m not virtuous nor keen ‘Time is running out of time’ in this era of antiquity we are out of halos and horns and…

Creative Writing

Acceptance

I stand on a tear stained street Caught inside an endless commute. I pour my fingers into the eyes of strangers In search of you. Off beat, intrinsic jazz shakes my body Our hands make love Ejected, rejected Thoughts exit my mind. I am in a muddling mind maze, These thoughts were only ever meant…

Creative Writing

Soup

I can’t eat my soup. I told mum that I wouldn’t eat it, but she heats it up for me anyway. ‘Just in case’, she says. Just in case. I watch her hook her finger under the metal latch and begin to peel the lid off. I watch it hesitate, and bend over in a…

Creative Writing

Jealousy

You appear as a dark shadow; small, black, faceless, getting bigger and bigger. Engulfing until your circumference becomes traceless. You sound like sharp green nails on a blackboard, scratching and screeching. Your voice bores into me, shrill and defeating A fiery burn as you suck and bite at me, a parasite slowly killing its host….

Creative Writing

The Pleasure of A Broken Rib

It can be hard to explain The pleasure of a broken rib. Bruises bloom across the soil beds of your chest, The warmth of the consistent ache Almost like a friend in its constancy. Fingers press and jab and fondle just to remind yourself that Yep, still stings like a net of nettles. But the…

Creative Writing

Out of Time

“Time is running out of time” and I’m not happy with myself “Time is running out of time” in the absence of mother’s help “Time is running out of time” and I’m not virtuous nor keen “Time is running out of time” in this era of antiquity we are out of halos and horns and…

Creative Writing

Fall

Will had perched on the edge of their bed. He brushed Danielle’s cheek with his thumb, and told her he was going for a walk, receiving a half-awake mumble in reply. Ten years together and he still looked at her sleeping form in wonder; still had the old urge to play with her hair while…

Creative Writing

Casa Internazionale

Even the bleakest day Had a taste of the present. The present, Back then, Was a concoction Of mellow mornings, Followed by endless, heightened nights. Now it’s just me And the future: I am gnawing it away. At least it will sharpen my teeth. Not a day goes by Without someone telling me, “Oh, you’re…

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The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

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