A trail of massacre in my wake.


Menstruating blood seeps through the

cracks of my hormones plunging me into the depths

of normality, to be female, so easily led by useless

emotions that spill across cheeks.

A jolt into reality to see what you see,

instead you show me the tainted

pages that already haunt my thoughts.

Aneath the crimson onslaught

I tear your soul from

words fought,

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Words and image.

Blood laced razor blades.

The true facts about menstruation:

PMS….pre fuck you! The weeks running up to the event. Your body realising there were no winners in the sperm race decide to celebrate with an influx of hormones. 

Then boom out of nowhere the drummer boy pulls out his razor blades and plays a melody of death upon your ovaries….and the world just keeps on fucking turning as my insides are fucking burning…

And then there’s the blood, a murder scene of mass proportion…I should probably stop writing now if I want anyone to read my stuff again 🙂

Karen Hayward ©2016

Pillows and chocolate.

If you are not a soft plump pillow doused in the soft scent of roses,

then please, begone.

If you are not a feathered duvet that gently hugs my body,

then please, retreat and leave me in peace.

If you are not a place upon which I may lay or sleep,

then please, take heed, turn upon your heel and walk away.

If you do not bring chocolate, an endless supply,

If you come without the iron rich necessities of life

then please, go, come again another day.

If you are not the warm hands pressed against my stomach,

if you are not the slow beating heart sent to distract,

if you are not the warmth radiating into me,

then please,

leave me to my silence.


Karen Hayward © 2016