Could I hear in death your voice and your breath?

Graphite on paper. Scribble.

Tobacco cane smoulders between darkening skin
as tambourines touch
and pretty voices sound.

Blank breath drawn
killer sharpens her tongue,
pauses, and vomits yellow teeth.

Soldier white pages lay upon loose flesh
but slowly they find themselves being drenched in thoughtless black
that bloats and wields it's way onto the gradient.

Plastic caught beneath the tracks
leading to the shore where platted flowers hum over a stone cold bed,
sheets buried in the sand.
Bubble gum pink bubble popped. Dry.
Mind stretched and milk blood drawn from your sons and daughters,
their shoes untied. You smile.

Gargoyles drag carcasses from an empty sea,
there my head rests. Cryptic.
Entombed. DB.

The needle and the damage done.

Digital Photographs. Brainstorming ideas.


Cancerous breath swollen in the wake of a murderous day,
beautiful things lay. Still.

Fingertips dance light like lash brushed cheeks.
And you didn’t think to remember me while you were trumpeting vendetta,
sewing machines belted to bike wheels ploughing skin.

Bequeath to thee a drowned sailor's unrest.
Instantaneous. Solemn. DB.

What a typically shit thing to do.

Graphite on paper. Work in progress.

I read your letter, lines anxiously pulled in blue across the page forming structures that didn't mean a thing to me. Your confessions, ransoms confusingly noted in the emptiness that prevails of unkept promises; sewing through the mess. I search for you between my feet but you escaped after you broke in, swung between tiny veins, because you realised i didn't mean a thing to you. Its heavy and denied but to confess I knew you would break... me, freight train pulling me to it's gate because I knew I didn't mean a thing to you. DB.

"This is the moment that you know, That you told her that you loved her but you don't. You touch her skin and then you think, That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me. Yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me. I wanted to believe in all the words that I was speaking, As we moved together in the dark. And all the friends that I was telling, All the playful misspellings and every bite I gave you left a mark. So one last touch and then you'll go, And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more. But it was vile, and it was cheap and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me, yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me". Death Cab for Cutie.

Hinting at space, to be unborn.

Digital Photographs. Brainstorming ideas.

"When I exit and recall your eyes; Leaden depth and dark, hinting at space. Oh the richness, hinting at everything, And unborn uncreate. To be unborn. Like an angle fallen whilst I saw your eyes, leaking lights". Michael Cashmore.

A bird with broken wing yet nothing more.

Brainstorming ideas. Graphite one paper.

"I know a dog much blacker than night, Who lives in a house where nothing is right, All sorrow and loving riches at bay. Lie true lie true lie true lie true. Lie true lie true lie true lie true. Lie true lie true lie true lie true. Lie true lie true lie true lie true."- Isobel Campbell

Imprint After.

Gouche, water colour and water pencil on paper.

"Why did you choose to stay? Are you sure about your life for once? Have you fell? How are you gonna live? I can tell you that you've gotten far. Why did you want to come back to me? Was it cause I didn't want to leave? I want you to know I'll keep you out of harm, but you got to know you left your mark...on me.
I don't want to talk about him, And how he wasn't shy. Don't tell me anymore about what you had, I know you're different now from what I had. It's a good time. I'm sorry i couldn't name the colour of your eyes. I don't want to talk about him, And how he wasn't shy. Don't tell me anymore about what you had, I know you're different now from what I had. It's a good time". Toro Y Moi

I hear flies.

Graphite on paper. Draft intended for dry point etching.

"Where O where have you been my love? Where O where can you be? It's been so long, since the moon has gone, And 0 what a wreck you've made me. Are you there over the ocean? Are you there, up in the sky? Until the return of my love, This lullaby. My Hope is on the horizon, Every face, it's your eyes i can see. I plead, i pray through each night & day, Our Embrace is only a dream. And as sure as days come from moments, Each hour becomes a life's time. When she'd left, i'd only begun this lullaby". Mark Lanegan & Queens of the Stone Age.

Tears streamed down her worn cheeks as she whispered to his reflection in the carriage window "I kill all beautiful things". - The last Friday we knew together. DB.