• Daisy King commented on the post, railroad 8 months, 2 weeks ago

    We wandered down the railroad, following our feet as much as we followed the tracks. Occasionally we exchanged glances, our fingers touched. At night, I heard her breathe. We looked at the same stars but we were railroad apart. I wanted to follow her, follow the path of least resistance, but soon I saw that there were barriers and boxcars boxcars boxcars.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, railroad 8 months, 2 weeks ago

    We wandered down the railroad, following our feet as much as we followed the tracks. Occasionally we exchanged glances, our fingers touched. At night, I heard her breathe. We looked at the same stars but we were a railroad apart

  • Daisy King commented on the post, quilted 1 year ago

    My blanket smelled like milky tea and boiler rooms and illusory bouquets of rose bay willow herb but we were thrown into the Wye and sank into the mud, sinking between petals and uprooted endings.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, instruct 1 year, 4 months ago

    I never read the manual. I can’t be taught by watching practical demonstrations. To instruct me, you must educate me with words, with rhetoric, with concepts to wrap my head around and facts to anchor my thoughts down.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, lodge 1 year, 6 months ago

    Low hanging branches. woven into a roof
    Over you between your brain and the blue sky
    Daily turning over with grey and navy blue
    Glittering with golden stars
    Eternity illuminated from here

  • Daisy King commented on the post, lodge 1 year, 6 months ago

    the Priory lodge. It was where the eating disordered patients were housed. Priory Court was for the addicts. Somehow it sounded more ominous and grown-up. Priory Court. But Lodge. It was our counterfeit family comfort, our shadow smiles on the sofa under tinsel

  • Daisy King commented on the post, camp 1 year, 8 months ago

    I never went camping. We had a country house in Wiltshire. That was where I first learnt about Jane Austen, at the same time as learning about bleeding people using leeches, and a few years prior to when I first learnt what a white lie is. I remember seeing it in the rear window and driving away and I didn’t cry. I went camping with my boyfriend.…[Read more]

  • Daisy King commented on the post, soda 1 year, 10 months ago

    I drank it backwards from the can to stop the hiccups. It never fails. I do it because I hiccup backwards, and it hurts. It hurts because my chest gets pulled in and the air expelled violently out of me from my muscles and chest and lungs and middle tightened parts, and it sounds like I’ve been punched in the gut. No up.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, motor 1 year, 10 months ago

    churning engine, riffs of waves and skis upturned and boats and wrecks and gulls cry overhead, pulling at the string, kicking the wheels that turn, upturn, downturn, mouth that won’t stop spilling with words, churning, running out, emptying, emptied out, motor dead

  • Daisy King commented on the post, haunt 2 years, 6 months ago

    The library is exactly the same as it was the morning I was shot in the head in the history section, only colder, and quieter, and bluer.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, bicycle 4 years, 5 months ago

    There was suddenly space in my lungs again, feeling the air whistle to all the chambers inside me, cleaning out the dust, as the wheels span to the cadence of my furious pedalling. Faster and faster, but what was waiting for me when I stopped? Would I ever stop? What was chasing me?

  • Daisy King commented on the post, difficult 4 years, 8 months ago

    therapists tap their pens.
    that must have been difficult for you.
    silence.
    you think to yourself – difficult? these things can’t be difficult. some things have to just be done and difficulty doesn’t matter because you live for the easy things that don’t hurt.
    they don’t know difficult.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, difficult 4 years, 8 months ago

    There are few things more difficult than turning around to see yourself
    in retrospect, without the blind spots that once protected you
    from seeing the ugly things that are so true about you
    and it is difficult but you have to look and look and look and look and look. See

  • Daisy King commented on the post, stalling 4 years, 10 months ago

    I was putting it off. It was approaching fast, a giant steam engine with an ear-blasting whistle, a warning, and I was trying to set it off its rails. I could not put its breaks on. I could not stop the collision. I could only stand there and try to distract for a moment before the ultimate contact.

  • Daisy King commented on the post, sly 4 years, 10 months ago

    eyes darting from one side to the other, wild, a circus to watch, but not able to watch anything themselves, as the world going by was too much to observe when trying to hide from it. It was a crime, there was no shying from that. Being invisible the only option.