Tea Time, Blue Beast, and Flowers in February

Writing by Clem Prime. Illustrations by Annie Whiteson.




Tea Time

Watching the mould grow in my tea

Comforts me

It means things

Take their intended course in life

Following the laws of nature

Ordered chaos slowly decaying

Turning all shades of blue and green

So when I feel like I know nothing

I look at the mould

And think how beautiful and putrid

How resourceful and rancid

Not useless in the least

It is actually just like me



Blue Beast

My body is immense

My womb warm, rounded but empty

Who lives in this tiny world ?

I wish it was you beneath it all

But nothing lives in this shallow land

It’s sadness growing inside of me

My belly swelling up like a beautiful beast

Boiling patiently

Waiting for a moment to leap out at the world

And decimate everything in its path mercilessly

Kill, maim, thwart and suffocate the chaos

Like a little child being born blue

Gasping for air

Screaming to fill a void

It will soon learn nothing can be done

But rest its head on its mother’s breast

And suckle like a lamb

Born wet and cold

Sustained only by its fat

But my bones are bare

Too tired to eat

Everything is failing me

Childless womb, broken organs and burnt out brain

You will be my saving grace.



Flowers in February


My mother told me I wish I could carry your pain

So it doesn’t have to wear you down

And I wish you wore my pain too sometimes

Tried it on like a costume

To see how it would fit

But you, the most beautiful boy

Are a martyr of none

My father said I wish he would have spared you

But I know we were happy in June

I just wanted to be your baby

And you let me for a while

Before you moved away in July

Leaving me wild and angry

Like flowers in February

Insolent little month

Slowly growing resentful

But crocuses and daffodils plentiful



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