mogs mumblings

We sit in a corner

1. When you got a new box of cigarettes you would always pluck one out and turn it upside down and it became your wishie. It was always the last one to be smoked and you made a wish before you lit it. 2. Your fringe always parted naturally in the middle because you would twirl on the stands as you read. Whether it was a phone or a book, your hand would always fiddle. 3. I was there when you tattoo'd that karma sign onto your ankle. I remember your ink-stained fingers holding the needle and my own grimace as you pierced through your skin. 4. You once made me laugh so hard I snorted and shot water out of my nose and all over you, and you laughed so hard at me, you fell sideways clutching your stomach. 5. You once said that one day you'll tell your kids about how we met and how we dated before deciding we're better as friends. You thought your kids would think you as wild. 6. It ended in a car crash at three in the morning on your local high street. A tragic accident, no one's fault, they say. Innocence won't bring you back from the dead. 7. You don't want to be a ghost, I know that. The idea of being stuck in one place, watching everyone grow old without you? You would rather wait at those pearly gates. 8. You know, I still haven't said it aloud. That you're dead, that is. I haven't seen you in so long I'm used to you not being here. I'm waiting for you to reply to my text. 9. It's been nine days. Today I went to church and lit a candle for you. I don't know if you can see it. I don't really know how I can talk to you now, if at all 10. What do I want to say? Thank you, I guess. For being supportive and beautiful. You don't believe it but I think you saved my life all those years ago, so thank you.

Tell me a story Flower girl Do you have a pen for writing on the wall? I’m writing you some drunken poetry I’ve been trying to brainstorm a name for it It’s a bit later than I expected And I missed your call last night Sorry I’m sorry drunk It’s cute that you call me hyacinth girl I don’t understand what that entails Have you told anyone? You’re so cute Beautiful Swear to god Wanna meet up in the week? I want to go to this dance party Did you see the photos? Who can get drunker fastest out of both of us wins We could meet at the station/bus stop or you could come mine first? I’ll wait for you The door’s unlocked, let yourself in There’s grapes and cherries in the fridge Do you recommend doing make up drunk? It’ll be fine That can be your catchphrase or something Ready? I have a vague ambition in that direction Well, damn girl, you pulled The magic penis of bisexuality Can I fuck him instead? I’m kinda jealous Hopefully, meeting him will make me feel mushy Give them a kiss from me and have a lovely time Let me know when you get home How was it? It sounds like it’s just drunk love Sorry At least it’s not the worst thing that can happen You will also become old We’re all plunging into death water Take a moment to chill. Breath. Start again I’m home safe Thanks for letting me use your sofa I had the best sleep in ages I owe you one You make me so proud I’m done Do you want to read it first? I’ll send it to you first class I love you See you later

Sometimes I go to church just to sit in silence on the old wooden pew with a hand-made, cross-stitch kneeling pillow at my feet and a worn Bible beside me. I never pray; I'm not sure what good it would do. I just like the silence and the calm. Sometimes I watch the Father, a grey-haired old man with gold spectacles and black robes, as he wanders around the church, his steps quiet on the stone floor. He picks up Bibles left on pews and lights the tall, white candles. He spoke to me once. He stood next to my pew with his hands clasped and asked if there was anything on my mind that he might be able to help me with. I said I just like the silence, how sitting there was like meditation.

The other day on a particularly long train journey home, considering who I would want to spend hours on end with in such a small space as a train carriage, especially if I was travelling around Europe for a couple of months. Besides one singer (who I reckon has a tonne of interesting stories and who could well write a song about me) you were the first person who I thought of. It’s partly because we’re pretty alike as it is. We like ghosts and poetry, and we both want to see the same places. I’m not sure what I’m more excited for- the places we’ll visit or the journey. I think of us writing poetry in moleskin journals with pens we’ve picked up from a museum we have just visited, or sharing ear buds, or sleeping off a hangover with our heads bent together. In reality we’ll probably be a little bit stressed, tired and cranky, but not all the time, that’s the important thing. What I’m trying to say is that it won’t be wholly perfect because what is? but it’s going to be pretty damn great. I’m looking forward to trying to find directions to vegetarian food in cities we won’t know our way around in and posing for pictures in front of monuments and castles and museums. I’m sure we’ll get lost sometimes - I’m no map reader after all - but we’ll be fine. Together, we have fourteen months and the whole of Europe. The gap year begins here.

they gathered in the field early summer and late evening sat in a circle under a grey sky that threatened rain but the rain never came and they sat in the damp grass in their modified uniforms- with all feather boas and paint and glitter adorning them, with scribbled notes of good luck, happy futures messages of 'will miss you' head in laps and holding hands kisses on cheeks and lips and arms wrapped around shoulders they did balloons, four of them in a circle, lying in the damp and freshly cut grass and passed around a joint wrapped in watermelon paper and drank vodka and gin from plastic cups and they didn't talk about the future; they lived in the moment instead

1. There's blood It's everywhere A pool in the bottom left of your shirt Still wet It's on my hands I've never seen you panic Apply pressure, keep it elevated Keep talking to me Headwounds bleed more Is that a fact or a comfort? For fucks sake this isn't how this was meant to go Who wears rings to a fist fight, anyway? 2. You're propped up by the toilet Can you hear me? Look at me with blown pupils and a gaping jaw Okay This can be dealt with Kick to the stomach to empty it - not a perfect method but it works I know you're tired Don't sleep How much did you have? What did you have? Look, call me if you need me I'll be just outside the door 3. Fluorescent humming hospital light I'm washing my hands in a too-small sink The water runs pink Then clear There's dried blood on my face Your blood Headwounds always do bleed more Of course I'm staying with you Can't have you dying in your sleep I've spent 6 hours in A&E for you Leave off the snoring 4. We're running, running, running Crawling under barb wire fences Covered in scratches Slipping down the hill Branches whipping our heels It's a scramble onto a roof Lie down flat, shut up One Two Three Four of us in a row, laid out on our backs They haven't seen us They've kept going They're gone We're okay

At the top of the hill six trees stand to alert. Legend has it that should any of the trees fall, so will the castle that they stand guard over.  It hasn’t happened yet, though there have been close calls. Once, during the last war, a bomb fell from the skies and threatened to uproot one. Measures were called in. It took twelve women, a rope and a land rover to put the tree upright. The current owner has a sister tree on grounds in case a replacement will ever be needed. The six trees on the hill have been there longer than anyone can recall and will remain there, side by side forever more.

I think that my biggest fear out of all of this Is the idea that there may be some trace of it left That when i was finally done with being sad When the fog that lays heavy in my broken mind Has finally lifted and I can think clearly again. (Actually it was that I would not leave scars) But I was so caught up in avoiding white scars Anything that might mark the surface of my skin That I destroyed my body from the inside out And I didn’t care for myself the way that I should Instead I was angry, I withheld food and love A few years have passed and now I’m on a crusade To fill my body with all the love that it missed It’s not always easy and I forget to eat Sometimes. I’ve been trying to use affirmations. I am strong. I am beautiful. I can do this.

Tonight I went back to my childhood home. Outside, nothing had changed. The old gate still hung crooked on it’s hinges and squeaked. The house is not a shrine, even if I did expect it to be. The kids that sit around the table are not the faces I grew up with and that sounds obvious but I think deep down I expected to step back into that life, of Ovaltine in plastic mugs and little marshmallows, the smell of pencils and paint and those old green canvas camping tents, that we threw out years ago. The kitchen hasn’t changed much. When I was younger I used to sit on that bit of counter there, under the cupboard with the plates in it, and me and Matthew would pick our favourites from the penny sweet mix. I liked foam bananas. He always ate the little fried eggs by biting off the yolk and then eating the white bit. It was a Sunday tradition.

In my dream We're two of us In an empty room Sat on wooden chairs Staring at each other i. In one version I leave first I wait for you to move You don't move The door closes between us ii. In another version It's you who leaves I watch you go You don't hesitate I regret not moving iii. Sometimes, I chase after you Down the road Grab hold of you arm You decide to stay iv. Once, you follow me Grab hold of my arm We go back Sit down again But closer v. In the worst version We both leave Through separate doors Neither look back Empty chairs in an empty room.

Here’s how this will work: You will stand under the water and let it pour over you. You will close your eyes as your hair flattens and sticks to your cheeks. Regrets that sat in the back of your mind now flood down your spine. Words that you bit back that time are let free. The words that used to ring in your ears now fade away. Disappeared. Everything will be washed away, all of it. How she touched you here, and he kissed you there. Traces of other lovers touch on your skin. All gone. The imprint of your mother’s hand once left a mark that stayed for an hour on your back. A swollen red welt. The slap echoed and has never left you. It will leave you now. When you are empty, turn off the taps and step into a warm towel. It is a fresh start. You will be okay.

I'm trying to talk less and to listen more to other people. Words bubble up behind my teeth and I can't stop them flowing out

The boy with the brown hair lets his mouth fall open when he laughs and oh how he laughs often and loudly he’ll squirm in his chair and slap his hand against the arm and his eyes will light up The first day I saw him, he made a speech about how he wanted to be more than his chair. I can hear him now when I close my eyes. it was amazing. I’m thinking of the day he finished his chemo wearing a hat and shades in his back garden with beers and burgers in the summer of 2015 with the whole world, our whole lives in front of us. Shea, i’m passing your road now as I write this and I can see your house on the corner. You have been the only thing on my mind since I heard the news, I’m replaying memories. Lazy lunchtimes sat under the window, putting the world to right. Hours in the dressing room under the Olympic stadium, waiting for our moment to step out in front of thousands of people.  Today, i did the only thing I could think of. I went back to school, to sit in a room with everyone who knew you, all of us with red-ringed eyes, looking at pictures and talking about how amazing you are. all of us united by one thing: you. With your passionate voice and determination you could do anything you wanted. And you did so much. I’m thinking of you now picturing your smile open-mouthed and genuine. I really hope you are happy. I’ll miss you, Shea.