*Originally posted February 2014, within one month of this blog’s birth.   Electrical, chemical. The beauty of fornication. The sensation of a thousand trembling souls washing over your naked skin beneath a blood-red moon. Raised high between two thighs, it goes in, and then it comes out, over and over again. Perfume sprayed on flowering sex… Read more

  In the subway by the train station, I pull you aside and grip your skinny wrists. You with those almond eyes- how could I ever resist. You with those lips that speak to me of obscenity- how could these hands do anything other than make you mine. Cold so cold we dart through traffic… Read more

  There are photographs of who I used to be, but none of them can be trusted. There are various accounts of my behaviour during the course of my breakdown, but they’re neither here nor there. In the midst of my depression, there were no words, only the desire to forget about my life and… Read more

  Smoke your cigarettes until you’re crawling on the ceiling unaware of the blood that’s trickling from the corners of your dirty little mouth. Sleep with another. Sleep alone. Share yourself and divide the one inside even further. Write to become whole. Write to redeem. Fail and fail again until the taste of failure outweighs… Read more

  Coming towards me from the bottom of the garden, she has a funny look in her eye that won’t say no. Sniffing her like a dog, I’m after the scent of pot but find only dreary tobacco. On the driveway in the glovebox of her car, there’s a tin of snuff and several polaroids… Read more

  When you suck the skin and leave a bruise, I lie there prone and defenceless. When the hours pass and I’m alone thinking only of you, shadows dance across the wall leaving me in a perpetual state of unrest. The fridge is empty, but I keep checking on the off chance I missed something.… Read more

In a stairwell littered with rubbish and stinking of piss, I look up at a man who isn’t there. In a parking lot outside a block of low-rise apartments, I’m stood smoking while thinking back to how things used to be. As the ground sways beneath my feet, the scent of your body carries in… Read more

  In the back seat of the car, there are empty cans of beer and fast food wrappers and magazines concerning the human form. Females. Women. Stuff like that. There’s music. Albums such as Animals and Meddle and sometimes Wish You Were Here. Wrapped in a plastic bag, there are sketchbooks with copious amounts of notes regarding… Read more

  Tigers. Mountains. Sometimes thoughtful. Sometimes nothing at all. Charcoal on your fingers. Smear it on my face. Make patterns on my torso and kiss me like you mean it. You with that small mouth of yours. You with those dirty fingers that move in slow motion. Rest them on my chin. Place them on… Read more