Put the Christmas tree up earlier. It was in a box under the stairs, and now it’s looking spunky with three thousand fairy lights on it and a shit load of golden tinsel and handcrafted ornaments I bought in a garden centre with pocket money back when I was a kid. Drinking a… Read more

  Dreams of being a werewolf. Daydreams where she lifts her legs high above her head and squirts out her desires so they shower my masturbating hands and bouncing balls. When I stir I know I’m being crude and I know her image deserves far better but there’s no use in denying these urges that… Read more

  Is she a solar flare? Is she a mirage in this desert of words and work and words and work and grey days and boring days and sleeping days and beer days mixed with headaches and bellyaches and toothache and thinning blood? Does a nosebleed tell me a transformation is taking place? Does a… Read more

  Is it in a kiss, or in words, or a gaze? Can you feel it in the air or is it just the flesh? Is it in a cigarette or the bottle? Is it a knife in the guts, or is it something we have no comprehension of? Don’t know. Don’t care. Well, that’s… Read more

  While she sleeps, I sneak downstairs and grab a few beers before sneaking back up and observing her. Pulling back the covers, I admire her body while masturbating over her feet, but before cumming she wakes and snatches a glass from the bedside table and throws it at my face. Striking me in the… Read more

  Was supposed to write something meaningful, something majestic and sad, but couldn’t quite get in the right mood. So instead the words roll as and when they see fit. On the bookshelf next to my bed, there’s a bottle of Jack Daniels that’s been sat there since last Christmas. Shouldn’t really drink the stuff… Read more

  If you curl up as small as you can, do you think it’s possible to wriggle away from what you fear most? Do you feel that if you block out all you’ve lost, that it’s possible to smile despite knowing you’ve smiled a smile far brighter? Does your love churn deep down even though… Read more

  She takes a grape and makes it disappear. I carve a replica of Cleopatra’s Needle and watch as it goes in and out. And that’s what it does, hour after hour as I crouch at the end of the bed laughing with infant glee as she flowers on the brink of euphoria. In and… Read more

  We are magpies. We are ghosts. We are shelf stackers, lovers, drifters, and in the cold wind that blows we keep on drifting through the nights until all that’s left are buildings that used to speak but which now remain silent. Do you remember any of those nights? Can you recall the taste of… Read more