3 Infected and Going Viral All life and matter is basically energy, thus when energy is re-directed, re-arranged and transubstantiated, what is there left to do but capitulate to sentiments which are as real as one's own? The idea that we are merely made up of chemicals and electrical impulses leaves many people cold. Short first-person prosaic piece loosely based around infection as a metaphor for lust.

2 Untitled "The drunken and hiccupping call of adventure/ Invites us to strip and swim up the Serpentine." Winner of the 2010 Ilkley Literature competition in the 16-18 category.

1 Red Letter Relations A short poem on the subject of the times when the dark depths of the winter nights creep in, and the world shrinks to an incandescent bubble, lit solely by the flickering blue of my computer screen; the last outpost of the lost who still seek.

1 Today My Lover Has No Face I need the surety of a scene, a face...

3 Moth Dust I've seen those creatures/Mad with candles, stuttering in paroxysms/On hot wet nights. I hate them on sight.

1 Clothed Coherency What there is of me I wear outwardly/ - wear myself inside out, and wear you out -/So I have tugged my ragdoll's coat about me/pulling tight 'til the seams show white.

Wearing One's Heart On One's Sleeve I arrived to my appointment with the Dark Doctor about five minutes late. The curtains were drawn but for an inch between them, allowing only a finger of the strong June sunlight to illuminate the room; I could have been on the inside of a golden sarcophagus with only a cigarette lighter to see by.