Henry is a writer, poet and mental health essayist based in Somerset in the UK. He has a PhD in literature and creative writing from the University of Birmingham. His poetic novella, ‘Notes from the State of OMNESIA’ was published by Impspired Press.
The Trick with Gravity
I’m a bird. I’m a drone. I’m the helicopter above the beach watching children write their names in the sand. I’m a microlite. I’m a fly, making Metzinger shapes. I’m a hot air balloon floating, and my head is swirling like a Turner painting. I’m a soaring seed head I’m a lonely leaf I’m an iridescent blue dragonfly. The trick with gravity is to stay afloat and prevent your feet from being buried in the mud.
When the Bones of Your Nightmare Shine Through Your Skin
Last night you said you dreamt that you had removed a layer of skin so that you could see what was beneath. You said it was like scratching only better. You carry around your skeleton bones from the necropolis in the tissue bag and feel the acid throat and swollen tongue which is all part of your irregular existence chewing at the edges of time. You say that you are existing, like a sea full of floating rubbish, matched only by the boredom of an everyday melody. You call it hollow. Like when we chew on the bones of your latest nightmare.