Day 34

any amount of whatever in my life I know in my bones is bad for me will hold me back in my work will steal my peace will compromise my values will blur my standards will jeopardise my mental health is not believing that I deserve better so ditch WordPress   Sorry, guys: Thanks for

Day 33

Magdalene was an intense thought I’d lose my inner peace to each time I posted   the most powerful of attraction potions I was too quick to absorb   I’d write out the words stuck in my throat trying to get healthy inside myself but I needed that stable feed of Magdalemania

Day 32

I go to bed and dream that I’m dead because nobody cares about me nobody would notice if I didn’t exist I’d leave no hole in someone’s life or any work of enough social merit to deserve being remembered for   I was just a biological mistake but Buddy loves me

Day 31

past fears stone sweets workshopped weapon brooding car little things screaming trees downstairs bangs quiet loo rare mark last minute suspicious test splintered postcode young arms dead car blighted iron melodramatic dog clothes talk truck wreck obsessive love latched gate stopped handgun sleepy Sheffield gardener gone ovum sample by herself

Day 30

my resolve to stay off social media dissolved like tears melt the eyes because despite my yearning to be Roddy ash I needed to connect to others on this side of the receiving room and to know that Roddy left for us verses that make my life worth mightily living

Day 29

my brain’s scrambled   it’s not big enough to hold   everything that’s happened   within my fucked-up family     it can’t make connections   takes the shortcut to my abuse   mires itself in acute loneliness   sticky consequences     causing me to interrogate   my motivations   to distrust others  

Day 28

breakfast   phone addiction selfie addiction follower addiction   am   selfie addiction follower addiction phone addiction   lunch   follower addiction phone addiction selfie addiction   pm   phone addiction selfie addiction follower addiction   tea   follower addiction phone addiction selfie addiction   bedtime   selfie addiction selfie addiction selfie addiction   night-time

Day 27

glad to have outrun the grip of social media but never my mind inviting stuff to feel guilty about to tuck in more European outbreaks after the bone dust of Brexit parties settles leaving a bloody stream and Roddy having been dead twenty-two days a skeleton of a bird swinging

Day 26

taking one small bag onto my flight back from Dublin forced me to shed a pair of dirty pants and socks flat grey slippers with the compact foam peeping out five years old mascara and a stump of eyeliner plus a beige woolly hat I looked like a gnome in

Day 25

in Dublin’s Griffin Park Drumcondra I put around me the orange flower scarf from Paris that’d been protecting my melodica I lifted to my blueing lips and played improvisations contemplating the seasons going on without Roddy as ducks slipped down small river rapids then black Scottie Lester sniffed my fingers