Regurgitated dog turds. Lovers holding hands as if they know the score, but they know nothing at all, and when I close my eyes and cut the ties that bind I see us running for our lives and when you stand there talking I want to silence you with my lips because what else… Read more

  It’s the colour we make as we kiss outside the bookstore freezing to the bone unaware that our bus is ready to leave. It’s what my mind is full of as these fingers slip through the layers you wear until they work their way beneath your bra. I’m a neon lover in a city… Read more

  At 3 am she’s curled into a ball haunted by the idea of growing old and losing her looks because she’s seen it happen to her mother and she knows one way or the other it’s going to happen to her as well. The blanket hides her body just as the snow covered her footsteps as… Read more

  Suffragette City full of glue sniffers and cheerleaders that dance on pavillions overlooking crowds of addicts and clones and clones and addicts and those women you get who claim to be vulnerable but are really black widows. Pouting and doe-eyed they mesmerise and pull you in and kiss your lips and fill you with… Read more

  On a frozen lake you dance. There’s music. Something dark. A soundtrack to murder, or perhaps your first undressing beneath the watchful eyes of a man much like myself. When you move your hips with that vague smile of yours, there are so many urges that threaten to overpower me. Others have been in… Read more

  There’s penetration, but not the kind that goes both ways. There are indentations on your shoulder left by my teeth. You can tell they belong to me because of the gaps made by my mandible. The dentist pulled out four in one go because of overcrowding, you see. This is the reason I don’t… Read more

  There are words and there are hangovers and one without the other never seems quite right. There are women and there are relationships but it’s only ever felt like some kind of game and the older I get the less I feel like playing. And so I lock myself away and write and when… Read more

  Out on the moors in the middle of the night, we dance with the ghosts of Heathcliff and Catherine, and when the wind blows just right, we hear the victims of Hindley and Brady having risen from their infant graves by the cries of our childish hearts. With their laughter ringing in our ears as… Read more

  We could spend the night drinking those bright blue cocktails that turn our piss a funny colour and we could smoke cigars and instead of savouring the taste just swallow the smoke until it burns our insides like crispy old newspapers left beneath the boiling sun during those long summer months where nothing happened… Read more