By Lotté Jean Elliott

i’m watching down from the tower
a drunken musician, a crying writer
an artisan with no muse, a frozen painter.
energy consumed, floating away as they reach their ends
passion dead, radiance long hidden.
is this the body of art, where we must be pushed to edges
to be revived
i’m watching from the tower, clinging to a saviour
a brain, refused
an act, does not fleet or freeze but needs reinvigorating.

i take a sleep on this, and wake to a new point
this art, that is buried in our lungs, our bloodstream.
it does not die nor does our muse
it is all around, waiting to be claimed.

Lotté Jean Elliott is a writer based in Northern England. She is the published author of a fiction novel, THE DAMNED SOCIETY, poetry collections LETTERS TO JUPITER and NIGHTS IN THE SNOW GARDEN and an upcoming screenwriter. She has works featured in Literary Mark, Brave Voices Magazine, Sledgehammerlit and BBC Newcastle.

By Lotté Jean Elliott

feelings like a lost cause
planets circulating around empty homes
faces hiding behind envy
skins leaving their true loves.

i’m wondering, lying, feeding, soothing
everything
is a thing, of purity and loveliness
till the branding, crumbles, withering, dying
i wonder of the escape from this
wandering
i want to learn to fly.

Lotté Jean Elliott is a writer based in Northern England. She is the published author of a fiction novel, THE DAMNED SOCIETY, poetry collections LETTERS TO JUPITER and NIGHTS IN THE SNOW GARDEN and an upcoming screenwriter. She has works featured in Literary Mark, Brave Voices Magazine, Sledgehammerlit and BBC Newcastle.