Icelandic jazz musician Laufey Lín Jónsdóttir (otherwise known as Laufey) revives the romanticism of cool jazz in her debut album ‘Everything I Know About Love’ (released on August 26 2022). Filled with swooning string arrangements, detailed storytelling, and emotional vulnerability, this album plays out like a fairytale of the 21 st  Century; audibly beautiful in its sound and lyricism, whilst maintaining relatability to a modern listener. The titular track, ‘Everything I K

when i paint myself for you, i am captured      in a space between perspectives. here is the Sitter, shapeshifter, composite...

(posted on Cathartic Youth Literary Magazine's blog) The spring daffodils have started to bloom from the grassy patches at the side of...

Trying to write you a poem is hard. I’m twisting into shapes          to dodge cliches, to find the perfect             ...

The digital world is becoming inescapable, forcing a reliance on technology for travel, work, communication, news, and so many other things that keep us connected to society. Because of this, it is so easy to become lost in our devices, overwhelmed by online consumption and activity, and as a result we feel unfocused and anxious in our daily lives. We are spending so much time in these intangible, digital environments that it is causing us to become removed from our physical

(posted on Cathartic Youth Literary Magazine's blog) Since the practice of creative therapy was introduced in Mid-20th century Europe, the benefits of the arts on mental wellbeing have been continually proven. This can include many different activities, ranging from colouring and painting to musical theatre and performance. But what is it about creative release itself that is so emotionally healing? And how can we draw upon creativity to improve our own wellbeing? A big aspec

I’m undoing myself and sewing it back together. My body is circular, a comet, a loop of thread like a magnifying glass, stretching until...

I am closest to you when inside myself, far enough back that I tighten like a snake coiling around a branch, feeling for noise in your...

(posted on Cathartic Youth Literary Magazine's blog) Imagine losing control of your emotions—being unable to distinguish rational thoughts from irrational. Imagine all of your lowest feelings swarming you at once. Imagine experiencing such a heightened sensitivity that even a minor setback can send you crashing down. Now, imagine all of this being a monthly occurrence in your life. PMDD stands for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, and it is a severe form of PMS (premenstrual s

where you haul me into a house full of bits i can’t remember except for plumbing, and you say wouldn’t it be funny to spiral every faucet...

(published on Concrete Online 12/07/2022) Seductive night of promise and disco beats, she retreats, shrouding her body, masking her face,...

(printed in Concrete 398) Twinkling lights begin to invade the high street. Cheesy Hallmark movies are playing on a loop. Christmas has...

(printed in Concrete's Venue 398) I knew I was her when I was taller felt a blood heat to see his falseness, inhaled the palace and...

(printed in Concrete's Venue 397) *cw - mentions of mental illness and eating disorders Despite being a self-professed “Buzzkill,” Baby...

Fingernails tap, thumbing a silent attack. The city sits, oblivious. I force my eye against the wall, searching for a blink behind a...

You make me feel unclean, with your sparkling rub, acidic sheen. You say: bathe in me, in my immaculate sea … Stop taunting. Spotlighting...

I spy a pair of lifeless eyes, a fog upon the windowpane, a bluster to my sun-disguise, I spy a pair of lifeless eyes. Here comes his...

wholemeal hands fumbling my body,   greedy hands tapping like autumn at a vein, chilling my skin, pushing out my hearty filling   and I, a loaf, am silent.   fingers scratch, flesh slashed, I think to myself, that is that . holes grow hollow, I watch my limbs dissolve in water,   and I, a loaf, am silent.   I wear thin, lighter hands won’t stop throwing me soon I am surrounded in myself, soggy dregs, friendless mush,   and I, a loaf am

Shuttling along with blinking lights and commotion, my sight shifts from the metallic rectangles that rumble anonymously in-front and behind, to the branches that shoot upwards, a fence of centipede trees that have been pruned to make room for the bustle of a road. As I speed by, they continue to grow, gasping for the glow that lurks behind heavy clouds of smoke . What is more alive: the screeching of rubber, or the silent defiance of something tamed, stretching tow