you are a
little garland of
all around my
skull like
the hands of a
lover gone.

my name is emily. I am from london (uk), and I have a sustained mistrust of capital letters, except when referring to the self (an area of great importance, obviously). I am what the kids call a “mature student”, having quit my job in order to enjoy my life, apparently a way-out-there decision these days

when I’m not writing poetry, I like to rollerblade, make LITERALLY EVERYTHING funny, pretend I’m from the 80s via sonic escapism, look at cats, run about in nature, cuddle my friends, pretend I have the hips for ballet and inflict my partial luddism on everyone around me. I personally find it upsetting that as a society we are so okay with plastic windows (what is this??? are we living in a tent? get some glass in your rotten and unmaintainable panes, you fucking cretins).

if you would like to chat about my poems, or anything really (except politics, although I will make an exception if you want to discuss the photo of jeremy corbyn with a big courgette), please get me on one of the links below. preferably, we should become pen-pals, which is a pastime I think is upsettingly lacking in modern society

instagram: @garlandofpearl
twitter: @femininedoom
tumblr: @femaledoom

thank you very much for reading x