Rochelle Roberts The forest, large-eyed, dank and disordered. Leaves billowing, wanting something likelungs to open up and breathe. They screamtragedies as I walk away from the path into the dark teeth of trees, taste burning, smokerising, mystical, in the shape of ghosts. Myshadow holds my body, the air like grit between the branches. I touch tree trunks and they … Continue reading Burning

White Boredom

Rochelle Roberts You, with teeth and white boredom,tangled in my sheets, your fingers stuffed inside, as though you think I might enjoy it.  I pretend to be a hollowed-out tree, bear-furred around the wound, yourprofile reminding me of old grievancesrattling around my head like loose teeth.  I hate the coldness of your lips on myindifferent skin.  My body sinks … Continue reading White Boredom