Rain Streaked Streets. That’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?

There’s something really beautiful about the rain, and when the car headlights shine on it, and there’s the light dancing between the two. 


#breakthecycle a person to soak up all the hurt and anger and tears and to listen.

I think we all need a ‘sponge’ at certain times in our lives, a person who listens. 


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SAD #breakthecycle

I know around this time of year many of us get bogged down with SAD. If anything I know it passes, but that doesn’t stop this time of year being arduous.


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&just think

this time 

before you mess up

do you really want 

to be doing this 


with hardly any 

of the same 


left to you open?

i am planning –

it feels like 

a line in the sand 

building up a picture –


doing away with 



it is about time

go happen to something

let it be afraid. 


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she will rise 

because she has 

done this 

often enough 
it is time to be free

to gaze directly at 

the horizon 

&not at her feet

to wipe the spit 

from the cracked lining 

of her lips 

to slap away 

his sweaty grip.


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This one comes with a Trigger Warning. #breakthecycle Prose. Outsider. 

Dry wood floor and a climbing wall. A store cupboard with crates of basketballs and team bibs. The benches being scraped back as the class individuals sit.

One girl apart from the rest. Her arms crossed over healing wrists. Her pocket bulges because of a concealed packet of sweets.

Joggers and a blue -green t shirt, stitched on the school logo. Trainers muddy from last week’s lesson outside. 

The whistle blows and the class has begun.

Teacher approaches girl as described and squats where she sits.

Points to the bruise on the girls arm, ‘How did you get this?’

The girl remembers, blinks solemnly from her fringe. 

She had been frustrated and hurt, in distress. It had been late at night and she hadn’t been able to sleep. She had torn at her arm using her teeth and clenched.

‘I hit it on the door,’ she responds to her teacher.

‘Oh, nasty door,’


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