Your Last

Unzip These Lips

I hope your last emotion wasn’t fear.
Did you see it coming?
I hope your last sight wasn’t the glaring headlights.
Did you run?

I hope your last touch wasn’t the hard metal
Nor the rough pavement against your cheek

I hope the last thing you heard wasn’t the roar of the engine
Nor your roommate shrilly screaming your name.

I hope your last taste wasn’t the blood that flooded your mouth.
Did it choke you?
I hope your last smell wasn’t the burning rubber when the truck left you behind
Did you suffer?

I hope you didn’t.

© 2016 Vic Romero

My cousin was killed crossing the street on 3 September 2016.

Twenty years with you doesn’t feel like enough time, but I’m grateful to at least have that. Chris, thank you for being my big sister, I love you. RIP.

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playing games

Unzip These Lips

all this is, is a fling

i remind myself as you grab my waist

all this is, is a fling

i repeat in my head as you hasten

to pull your shirt over your muscular back

allowing my fingertips to explore the expanse of your chest

inhibitions, we lack

all this is, is a fling

i feel the words form in my mouth

but then your tongue pushes its way in

knocking them out

your body forces me down onto your bed

your body covers mine

and you seek to pull apart my threads

all this is, is a fling

i grapple with the meaning of those words

because i constantly seem to forget

my heart subverts

these fucking words in my head

your lips are kissing and sucking down my body now

i’m so hot and turned on now

you’re torturing me

both physically and emotionally

why can’t you fucking stay?

why can’t…

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were no
longer gentle.
they were hungry,
so very hungry that he
knew she could devour him
whole. and with each kiss, they
gleamed a little brighter- he swore
that a golden light began to shine
from their swampy depths. she
was ravenous, but not for
mere flesh – no, she
wanted to have
his soul. and
he let

System Error



Hidden agendas – smoke screens and lies

Broaden your wars, chant freedom (watch as it dies).

Legislate away our rights and we’ll gratefully take scraps

Propagate fear, whilst we squabble over bric-a-brac.


Real issues are hurriedly pushed to one side

Whilst our big brother state grows even more wide-eyed.

The words of ‘YOUR’ media get stuck in my throat

We’ve become bitches – over which you reside and gloat.


Your political debate- an ever growing soap

how many episodes will you write to blind our hope?

A system overridden with secrets (apparently for our own good)

what hocus-pocus are you selling? What happened to all you stood?


Freedom is our choice, we are free to choose,

but what good is choice if we are lined up to lose?

Austerity you chirp- tell me who benefits from that?

Your obscure fairytale squashes the penniless flat.


Ulterior motives – con-men in disguise

Tell us what to think and what our freedom buys…

A democracy? The vote of a four year sham

To repress the public voice of anyone who gives a damn.


Do we really get a say in anything that matters?

The ‘war on terror’, fracking, the NHS in tatters

A loaded profession where the biggest lies win.

We need a better system this one’s wearing thin…



Copyright notice © yikici, Richard Withey, Sienna Williamson 2015-infinity. All rights reserved


A Collaboration (this has been published on Opuss too).


*Image sourced through: Cult of the Dead Fish– link to the direct image can be seen here.

Heavens’ Words or Hells?

A Poet's Journey

Speech is free,
I will it to be true,
but it is not…

You see,
society has rules,
some abide by it,
some abuse…


There’s topics galore
but do take care not to bore
for some are off limits
and you really must be with it
because if you open up the tin
you commit a ghastly sin
it matters not that you are pure
that topic you must ignore
because the freedom of speech
changes at every spin of the wheel
you can be a sinner or a saint
be in heaven or at hells gate
should you choose to open your vocal cords
watch which door favours the lords
for you always have to sit
between the angels and the pit
and be careful of your words
they bring lava to others’ joy
it matters not which side of the coin
or which bench you are sitting

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I don’t know how to leave you
And I don’t know how to stay
I can’t come any closer
Yet you won’t push me away

The words are always flying
But they’re never the right ones
I let out the wrong feelings
Cause it seems better than none

I’m just a piece of paper
With a scribble for a heart
Locked in walls of folded lines
You’ll never tear apart

Your lips, though, fray the edges
And my ink is running red
Is it blood or is it lipstick?
Please just get out of my head

© Victoria Morrison 2013-2014

Looking back…


Remember when…
we made tents from quilts
when life was devoid
of reason and guilt
We lived for the moment
without any plans
uncomplicated; time slipped
through our hands
Innocence held us
within its folds
events of our future
had yet to be toldv
We took for granted
the simplicity of life
not knowing events would be altered
at the roll of a dice…

©Sienna Williamson 2014