My boyfriend is a twat: the poem

Can we go trampolining?

He doesn’t want to go trampolining.

So, we don’t go trampolining.


Will you eat me out?

He says he will eat me out.

He doesn’t eat me out.


You don’t want a birthday party?

So, you make a fuss, and have one anyway.

Except you won’t tolerate a cake surprise.


You don’t like your housemates?

So, you keep your distance.

Except you actually refuse to interact with them at all.


Your mum is a bitch and doesn’t care?

So, you don’t contact her, and bitch about her when she’s not around.

And still wonder why she does it.


What if I get pregnant?

I have to get an abortion.

Because even though it’s not your body it’s still your choice.


When are we getting married?

He says one day, but not too soon.

Also, not too early: when he chooses.


Shall we have sex?

“Sure. Here’s 8 months of sex.

Now we have to stop because Jesus said so.”


Will you change for me?

Of course he will change.

He said he was sorry, too.


Do I believe him?





Here is a poem about me sneaking into a poetry slam at the university I am suspended from.

Suspended in November for the year,

I Lost my place here through a fake ‘syndrome’.

I breach my contract by returning here,

And take a risk upon my coming ‘home’.

To evade expulsion, Uni has requested

I leave without a fuss and to use stealth

In order to avoid getting arrested:

I must label addiction as ‘ill health’.

But it appears I could not leave for long,

As here I am back in my ‘second dwelling’,

And driven by my love for written song,

I came tonight and chanced my own expelling.

Enchanted by the spoken word I stood

Overlooking, with my lemonade.

I’m sober, clean, but still misunderstood,

I’m severely lacking purpose: I’m afraid.

I must confess that things have not been right,

My source of joy did penetrate my skin.

It pierced my soul, my darkness and my light,

I found my only friend in heroin.

And sitting there tonight I felt that urge,

That feeling I have come to know so well,

But I will not give in to drugs: I purge.

I free myself from heaven dressed as hell.

I’ve broken from my hypodermic chains,

I’ve found a friend that seems to love me too:

Poetry is running through my veins,

I’d love to be a part of what you do!

It’s a bit of a lie- the “I’m totally clean” part- but I still think it’s a masterpiece. Though I say so myself.

Here is a light-hearted poem about heroin.

There was a girl who liked to feel
Everything but her feelings,
So she puffed and drank and snorted,
And she’d wake up facing ceilings.

Curious the girl grew bored,
-You’ve got to give her credit-
And learned about this other drug
As she browsed her way through reddit.

Through working in a cashmere shop,
She’d income for her gap year,
To Guildford Town she went, naive,
And was sold some simply crap gear.

By 19 she was hooked on it,
and blamed no one but chance,
She’d found her missing puzzle piece,
And passed life in a trance.


I realise this poem is lighthearted but the message is clear: Heroin is cunning and addiction is deceitful. The point of the poem is that its lighthearted, singsong nature draws you in, without realising that at the heart of it is something horrific; very similar to heroin itself.

Stay safe guys, and if you want to seek help or advice about any drug, talk to FRANK.

Much love,


Hi, here is a dark poem about cocaine

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

One where I rail powdered snow

In my fantasy I feel wired

As I bang that Christmassy blow


I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

In my mind my choice is sure

In this dream of mine I cut lines

That can’t be more than 10% pure


I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

One where I’m too hot, then too cold

And when I catch my reflection in the glass

I can’t see my face is getting old


I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

One where I used to touch the sky

I felt good, I felt safe, I felt loved

Now forever chasing that high


I’m dreaming of a white Christmas

One where I never felt tempted by coke.

Because via popular media, I grew up

Seeing drug use treated like a joke.

Hi, here’s an inappropriate poem for you.

To the boy with the bible and the little red car,

For you I would take off more than my bra,

We both know by now that I’m more than a friend,

So take me back yours, over your desk I’ll bend,

You’re lovely and like me you’re not at all sporty,

Babe let’s go the distance so we can be naughty,

For you darling I will be ever so good,

To the whole world (except you) I’m misunderstood,

And although from Uni I’ve sadly departed,

The fun we will have is not for the faint hearted

Wherever you are in the world’s where it’s at,

So put down your textbook and check your snapchat 😉


(Totally written by a friend, not me.)