Choose your weapons.

Yours is a blank page.
Mine is a pen.
Yours feels like emptiness.
Mine, silence.
You walk alone.
But I choose loneliness.
Yours is a blank page.
But I chose to write.
I can take on a blank page.
I won’t let it scare me.
Fill up the nothingness.
I choose to fight.


“Fairfield is a fell in the English Lake District. It is the highest of a group of hills in the Eastern Fells, standing to the south of the Helvellyn range.”

Follow the instructions on the side of the box.

Take the lid off the box.
Open the box.
Check all the content that’s inside the box.
Turn the box upside down and make a massive fucking mess of everything.

It’s ok, though.
Don’t panic.
Just follow the instructions on the side of the box.

Now place all the pieces in tidy piles.
According to size maybe or colour or shape.
fucking organised
about it.
And when the time comes, you’ll know what to do.
(It says on the side of the box).

Ok start with the corners.
Or maybe the sky.
Whatever you do
not try
to do people.
They’re too hard, and we warned you
in the safety instructions, on the side of the box.

So you’ve got all the edges,
Bet you feel pretty good.
But there’s a long way to go
And you still do not know
what it is.
Which is fine, in a way.
It’s just the others all guessed, and they got it right.

It won’t really matter
Because it’s only a game.
It’s not meant to be easy.
And we don’t make the rules.
Did you read the…
Oh right.

The thing is I had a piece missing.


“Derwent Reservoir is a reservoir on the River Derwent, on the border between County Durham and Northumberland, in England. It is west of Consett. It is one of the biggest inland waters in England.”

I’ll put you in my pocket.

Pockets of people I put in my pocket
Parts of a person become part of me
A minute a moment that maybe will make it
Into my pocket wherever I’ll be.


“Mam Tor is a 517 m hill near Castleton in the High Peak of Derbyshire, England. Its name means “mother hill”, so called because frequent landslips on its eastern face have resulted in a multitude of ‘mini-hills’ beneath it.”

My favourite words.

I thought I’d write about my favourite words.

Like a blatherskite who makes no sense
Or hoddy-noddy who knows none.
Like kakorrhaphiophobia, that you fail to spell
to describe a fear of failing.

There’s tittynope when there is little left,
Pauciloquent when you say little
Erinaceous when something’s like something else
Or antithesis when it isn’t.

You’ll like yarborough if you’re playing cards
Or parsimonious if you wouldn’t
Audacious if you dare to dare
Pusillanimous if you couldn’t.

I said I would write about my favourite words
But that just isn’t true
Because I’ve forgotten all the other words
Now my favourite word is you.


“Stanage Edge, or simply Stanage is a gritstone escarpment in the Peak District, England, famous as a location for climbing.”

Just me.

Where do you go
When you’re on your own
Do you see other people
When you’re all alone
Do you think about things
You’ll never tell me
Where do you go
I guess I’ll never know.

Can I come too
When you’re all alone
Is it just you
Wherever you go
Do you like it best
Being on your own
Without me.

I’ve found my own place
On my own
I’m taking myself
And I’m going alone
Don’t want anyone else
You won’t see me there
Because I like it best
Just me.


“Stanedge Pole also known as Stanage Pole is a landmark on Hallam Moors close to Stanage Edge.”

Made up of him.

The air is made up
of nitrogen and oxygen and argon
But then it wasn’t
The air is made up
of stars and thunder and a deep deep sea
She is drowning
The room is made up
of people and talking and laughter
But then silent
The room is made up of him.

The day is made up
of coffee and emails and meetings
She hadn’t noticed
The day is made up
of places that she’s never been
The night is made up
of dreaming
Because the night has always been him.

The words are made up
of grammar and sentence construction
They can’t be
Now words don’t mean anything
The air and the room and the day and the night
And her heart is made up of him.


“Jacob’s Ladder: the start of the Pennine Way.”

It starts with why.

It starts with why
Then how then what
Do you even want and

It ends with why too.
Why you.
Why me.
Why does it matter because it does.

That’s not an answer.

Why do I think the things that I think
Why do I do what I do
Why aren’t I here
I thought that I was
There it is. I should have started with why.

When I find out the answer I’ll tell you.

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“Cat Bells is a fell in the English Lake District in the county of Cumbria. It has a modest height of 451 metres but despite this it is one of the most popular fells in the area.”

Be strong.

Be strong when you need to be strong
Be brave when you need to be brave
Tell anyone who’ll listen every weakness and fear
when you need anyone who’ll listen to be here
For you
But be strong when you need to be strong.

Be brave when you need to be brave.
Be loving when you need to share love.

Be kind.
Be the kind of person who knows how to be brave
And when to be strong.
And when to give love.
And when to do something completely unexpected because you owe it to yourself to be everything whatever however you want.
Be you.

Be light.
Don’t ever go out.
Be light.

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“Ringing Roger is the name of a wind-eroded finger of rock coming down the hillside, located to the east of Golden Clough . It is said that it gets its name from the sound that the wind makes when blowing over it.”

If you’ve never climbed a mountain.

If you’ve never climbed a mountain
You’re going to think
There’s only one way up
You’re going to look at the summit and say
“I’ll never reach that, it’s too high, too hard, I’ll wait at the bottom and get you a pint,
you climb, if you want, I’m too scared”.

If you’ve never climbed a mountain
Then how could you know
That nobody climbs
They just take a step, and another, and go.
And keep going ‘til the mountain’s not there.

If you’ve never climbed a mountain
You’ve either had it too easy
Or not even tried
And I don’t know what’s worse, to be fair
Because I’d rather climb a mountain
Just one step at a time
Halfway to I don’t know where.


“Loughrigg Fell is a hill in the central part of the English Lake District. It stands on the end of the long ridge coming down from High Raise over Silver How towards Ambleside, and is separated from its neighbours by the depression of Red Bank.”

i am afraid

i am afraid
of one thing
will make me run
or stop
but fear
is a funny thing
do you know how it feels
to be afraid
to have to be brave
when your only fear
is your fear

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“Chorlton Water Park is a Local Nature Reserve comprising of a lake surrounded by grasslands and woodlands.”