top of page

Liquorice and Twisted





The water feels sticky and I know I want to leave.

The days drag by, feeling deceived.

On my own in a flagrant incapacitating zone,

The same song always on repeat.


In a closed box room, I wanna eat the cake

But my stomachs turning my throat is burning

So I might just fake

That I’m ill just to get out of the conventional.

I'm miserable, I'm wonderful, forever fantasising a deliciously mouth-watering escape.


But it’s all going left and I can't find my rights

To be broke, I'm full of it

Being sold out by a broken lifestyle

Love-hating the nights

Why is there nothing that

I want to look at?

I feel like closing my eyes

All the time

I should forget to wake up, but


The moon is on the floor and

Gravity disintegrates into the melting puddles of my concrete ditch

Idolising throwing it all up but then I feel like

Going up all the way

To the top

I know I can eventually feel the wind

On my skin

The smell of sin mixed with the taste of rain

Always hating this part of the day

Feeling so lost.

But when I wake up I know that the sun is in my eyes

And then it all makes more sense than it did before

But it doesn’t when I close the door

Feeling all sorts of liquorice and twisted

Glazed with bitterness, somehow welcoming and wanting more



bottom of page