In town, outside the hotel, I drink my coffee. The cigarette that goes with it is bliss. Makes the cruel kiss of winter seem almost worth it. The buildings that watch over my temporal form are nondescript, yet in their way, they tell my story better than I do. They’re silent witnesses of my most tender moments, judging yet impartial as my life balances between creation and despair. What a sweet little riddle. A sordid itch, begging to be scratched while evading my touch at every turn. I’m a poet and an ape. A lover in love with an absence of everything. The smoke in my lungs escapes quite beautifully. For a second, it moves around me, circling my limbs like something out of a movie. The bricks in the wall opposite have seen me come and go. They remain the same, monolithic and true, yet all this will ever be is a living dream where yesterday is no more than make-believe.

X and I: A Novel and A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon UK

X and I: A Novel and A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon US