Thomas McKelvey Biography

Whispers trail behind me as I walk,
Hands outstretched, clutching little boxes.
'This one for your thoughts, this for your dreams,
That for the pain you cannot show.'
...

I press down
desperately,
dragging my innermost self
across the page,
...

I want a kiss
that makes me
crazy,
desperate for your lips.
...

You see me like a needle's prick,
A jolt in your constructed bliss.
Do you crave me, or just the dream,
A fantasy you've built, it seems?
...

I have been told, that
ghosts appear, in liminal spaces,
the tiny places
where you're neither here,
...