Bienvenue à la mer

As an ocean-dweller, writing is the only thing that grounds me to the land. This blog is dedicated to both my fictional and non-fictional works. I hope you enjoy!




When I step outside, I am conscious of myself. Hyper-aware, seeing myself through others’ eyes. I see how I walk, how I look, what I wear. Am I walking straight? Am I too tense? I analyse everything I do from an external perspective. As if it matters…as if everyone else is not already concerned with themselves. That is the ego. That is the mind. Fragile mind, coiled up tight. 


Everything we see – be it a bus, a hospital, or a tunnel – is a microcosm of activity. Every little part of daily life contains its inner reality. Just like the mind: a simulated reality warped by perspective, experience, and interaction. 

Do you understand? 


while away the edges,

watch the skin quicken

float away…

peaceful now,

as the flesh sears;

seers of warm collision.

Breaths into your open mouth

smoke, lust, lungs

caustic blood teeming

and renewing,

teeth grow tall as gums…


As soon as I met you, I knew I was in deep. Caught in the riptide, in the blue-black ocean bruise. Your eyes spoke of the earth, and of treasures, and ecstasies. Two years surpass and I feel as swept away as ever, if not more. The heady scent of your body, the feel of your hair in my fingers, sends me careening into the depths. Spiralling, spiralling, down, down…love with you, love in you and I need you more. I know, forever, that I am yours. Without a doubt or shred of fret. 


There is intricate beauty, amongst chaos. 

A spiderweb of colour in the clouds, for every train-wreck carnage grey. 

Blood-red stains/green water

makes the pain joyous 

Scratch foliage on the face, blessings from a waterfall



I never imagined myself in love. I was always a solitary soul; I was happy this way. But he came along, this beautiful, tall, blue-eyed boy, and he became a part of me. We are now inextricably linked. He is my first love. My soul is blue and red. I am scared of many things. Different things. Of being left behind. Of losing him. We are slowly metamorphosing into one person. One body. I can’t lose him now, or else be ripped apart.



I want to worship your body. Trace the smooth plane of your shoulder blade, feel the skin grow tight against your bones. I want to skip stones down your spine, and traverse the deep ridges of your pelvis. I want to decorate your white, empty skin; make a map from your freckles. I want to dive in your mouth and swim in your lungs. I want to inhale you until you evaporate, dissipate, in osmosis.


We are lovers in flight, skimming across the surface of the ocean. Our golden wingtips are wet with salt. Our blue eyes become one.

Love is beautiful and frightening, like an empty dark sky. The moonlight pours over your face, and your skin shines like a mirror.


Water has the ability to yield to its container. It is fluid and flowing. Yet it also has the power to cleave mountains and spread the earth. It holds no weight, but can crush the air from your lungs. It holds no tangible mass, but can form waves as tall as trees.

Warmth and glow

The world is beautiful, magical, and wondrous. You can create your own life, your own desired reality. You have the ability to fill your space with beauty: flowing fronds, melting art, tattered and damp books, the warm body of your lover.

You can arrange plush blankets on your bed; you can dive into the softness every night and fall asleep with the hazy scent of a candle: wax, flame, and fragrance.