the dead poets are dead. they don't see/hear your compliments—but you know who do?! don't wait until they are dead! praise the living poets! read the living poets! share the poems of the living poets! love the living poets! the dead poets had their moments.

It's only another open mic?! This time we'll be hosted by Written Off's founder and director Rebecca (she/her) to share poetry on, around, and about all things mental health! Grab your tickets now and join us for an amazing night: tinyurl.com/5n7ukxna 💙 #Poetry #VirtualEvent

It is September and I am haunted by all the things I will not become

Oh my god the hard work you put into the writing is the point! The act of writing itself is pleasurable AND difficult! Sometimes the things that are worth doing are hard!

Helen Rice's I'm Not Your Mother is an incredibly important and touching collection of poetry. It's a love letter to unconventional families that doesn't skirt around the gritty details - and it helps that the cover is STUNNING writtenoffpublishing.com/product-page/i…

finally reached my audience: performed poetry in a goth bar smoking area last night for strangers

i can't wait for winter when my backwards seasonal depression actually lets me be productive. fuck summer, all my homies hate summer

Fond place in my heart for my 20 odd year old lit twitter girly mutuals. I never tire of hearing of your pain, accomplishments, great loaves of bread, and hinge antics

Made a new friend? Actually enjoy socialising? But only with reflective queer creatives. Only them

Really enjoying leaning into the pigeon hole my office have put me in. Like yes i will take your old horror dvds, yes i will have that antique owl on my desk, yes i do know how much an adult ostrich weighs

men be like "i can't do this" and the this is just communicate.

being self aware is like i've won but at what cost

im so mad im so mad im so mad

We have not one, but two incredible collections coming this month! Burnt Ice Cream by Candi Martin showcases a unique view of parenthood, drawing on spirituality. Echolalia by Steph James delves into life as queer and neurodivergent under capitalism.

What that? A Written Off Showcase? At a folk festival? Oh, go on then....

“what’s your love language?” bitch all of them i’m soft as fuck

i am fine with being single for the rest of my life actually

I wish someone had told me two years ago when my book came out, that it woukd not be the biggest thing I'd ever do. Getting to be alive to see it would be. Continuing to be alive to live past it would be.