Rebecca Rijsdijk's Blog

i dream of pine trees and sea salt bruised knees in the grass i dream of campfires and listening to summer rain i dream of moonlight and stardust i still hear my mother’s favourite song echoing in dusty corners of my mind i came here to build a home with you i say from the…

in the city men in suits are in a hurry to get heart failure and lorazepam while i stroll with my hair down and my eyes set on the sky not a penny in my pocket but the luxury of time suit up boys smoke another cigarette and snort another line the stench of success…

i carried your name in my pocket the day after you died i had peeled it off your door mrs d room number fifteen black letters printed by a machine on a transparant background heart matters eighty nine don’t leave me alone you said every single shift i thank you for your shine

When people say “not all heroes wear capes”, we sinfully imagine no cape at all. But here, Rebecca shows us that the forgotten heroes do wear capes; they just wear them back to front and call themselves nurses as they wipe away a variety of bodily fluids. Their job is not saving the world or…

the days blur into one big night as i lay here gasping for breath i miss my lover’s arms as he fights the virus in a different city too far away from my own are you falling asleep again, amor? i see them come at me in my dreams the sweet old grandma’s who turn…

how old were you when the war ended she looks at the ceiling trying to come up with an answer it’s been seventy five years she says and i am ninety one i never expected to still be alive at this age none of my siblings were so you remember it quite well yes, she…

a mouth mask doesn’t hide the sound of a voice breaking when a heart stops beating a pair of goggles doesn’t mask the tears that fall in between the breath that stains our view i watch a man shrink to nothingness within a matter of days bones sticking out his face like a skeleton dressed…

two thousand euros a month but only if you work all evenings otherwise it is sixteen hundred and that pays for bills and rent but not life i got spat on by a covid patient tonight he has dementia and doesn’t want to take his pills fucking murder you are all trying to murder us…

Leaving your house after the weekend always feels a bit like dying until it’s done. I have my routine now. I hoover the rug my dog shat on at our first date because you always do the cooking. I wash the bed linen because the stains of our love making bite the fabric. I smoke…

on mondaywe are hungover fromthat weekendwhen we lived on tuesdaywe wash our carbecause god forbidthe car next doorshines harder on wednesdaywe mow the lawnand throw the applesback over the hedge on thursday we payour taxes and fuck our wivesbecause this needs to happenonce a month on friday we eat fishand i think jesushad something to…