KILORAN

All corners of culture

A Wooden Surrender

I wondered what had toppled that torso of sturdy oak, crippled, hollow, beneath a frosted cape of white, recalled how high those branches stretched, to sky, to cloud, far from from the humble earth beneath; I was younger than the […]

Let It Die In Paris

When love is sleeping in the next room and you’re bright clean in the bathroom holding candles facing corners where the life you’ll never live again lives because the moment of introduction was the most beautiful cataclysmic thousand year ice-age […]

Blunted Life’s Edge

Verse 1 Away, with the needless self-hate Whose disdained, grievous face oft embraced On a daily basis, the soft plains of My mind frame; it’s okay, to have weight I satiate myself, With this usefully, uncrude food, for thought That […]

1,2,3,4

I have four homes; constantly in migration and always lost in translation between. Each pulls from me a different colour, each equal, each silk, each frayed and lost and rebuilt, regrowing. My post falls through the same door I walked […]

Girls in Clubs

I thought we were more than just girls in clubs A pastel pink cigarette I stole from your lips Payment of my candied kiss, blown into smoke curls and pools A picture of want Want, need The feeling a penny […]

Milk and Honey

I was not made to be a waitress. To carry plates and pull pints and count coins and be able to breathe at the same time. I should have given up. Four years in and my boss was still telling […]

Two Years Of Trying Out Homes

Midnight violet tinted midnight settles along the shingles the quiet embracing the souls nestled in warm sheets duvets radiating light from sweet dreams past of life and jungles tangled with branches and thick with the entrancing call of the unknown […]

Survival

My body was a shape shifter A cruel stranger that obscured, contorted and twisted transforming from ghostly thin to suddenly twice the size a wobbling mess of flesh Hours upon hour spent gazing into unforgiving mirrors Blotchy critical eyes, painting […]

Faint

I. We pricked our fat, pink fingers, bonded by blood. Still, I search for signs of sisterhood, for white-line ladies who white lie like I. Who grew tired of waiting to shrink away again, who sink in girlhood’s shallow end, […]