She touches herself to a soundtrack of screaming babies and the noises horses make when their bellies get cut open. You know, like those ones in the war that were attacked by dogs that ripped out their entrails thinking they were gonna get a treat of sausages covered in gravy. I made that last… Read more

The cigarette sits perched on an empty can of beer. She looks at it, looks at the ceiling, looks back to the cigarette, then closes her eyes and falls asleep. Her bra smells of milk. She hasn’t taken it off in days. Can’t be bothered. No energy. No desire. I’m in the shower masturbating. There’s… Read more

  Sad songs. Yeah, you take the sad songs and slide them in your lover and make them better. Right? You kiss them and touch their bits and squeeze them all over and things blossom and your lover comes into bloom like never before. Right? Those bright lights, how they float around your head like… Read more

  Piers and mirrors and fast food wrappers and hair clips and dead ends and cigarettes that bounce in the road and your smile and yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. Teaspoons of English desperation while standing in line waiting to pay for your shopping and a terror attack in… Read more

  Buzzing bees and the distant memory of feverish belly rubs. Itchy fingers that would glide around her navel as she kicked her legs waiting for me to do my thing. Stood there unzipping myself, I’m lost in her image and it’s kinda painful and yet the lust she brings makes me feel like a child again.… Read more

  When I awake, cold daylight touches my bleary face. It’s most unwelcome, and so I roll onto my side showing my contempt at its presence. There were dreams about ladders and rooms and hallways with yet more ladders and torn curtains the colour of lost love. She had appeared in one of the rooms, and… Read more

  No lousy poets, and no talk about love, either. No mention of the future or empowerment, just coffee and toast and the emptiness of the morning after the night before. Forget romance, all I want is for you to cradle my bones and keep me safe for a while. Wrap me up in black… Read more

  Wiping my face and sucking on a cigarette, I glimpse a lynching on the streets of a Brazilian Favela, and the sight of man’s inhumanity to man is enough to take my mind off how much I want to see her suffer. Well, at least for an hour or so. As some slum kid… Read more

  The glow of angel eyes and the scent of lemon drizzle cake that reminds me of her mum’s old place. A car ride to a strange town that still contains her ghost and where the air tastes like the strip of flesh behind her left ear, the area I rest my nose against while… Read more

  Drink some beer, listen to Jeff Buckley, and stab yourself in the chest until you feel something. Those are my three tips on how to become a better writer. When you shimmer and pulsate, mutilate your heart, and then, once you come alive, begin work on destroying your mind. Disturb yourself until being disturbed is… Read more