Returning home drunk, I collapse on my bed and listen to Aphex Twin. Lighting a smoke and switching on my laptop, someone’s sent me of a video showing the aftermath of some woman having her face chewed off by a dog. Or it could be that she was high on bath salts and sliced… Read more

  There was a cute girl serving behind the bar. In possession of a body full of tattoos and a head of luscious curls, she was beautiful and bland at the same time. Her name was Estelle, and those big brown eyes of hers were so seductive she gave me the itch almost immediately, the… Read more

  Shaving her sex in lukewarm bathwater, I close the curtains and am pleased with what I see. With nowhere to hide, she wriggles from my grasp and moves with grace as I stumble in the midst of a hangover. Spreading behind my skull, the terror of existence wipes me out, and as I convalesce… Read more

  There’s safety in embrace, and yet these bones require something more. From biting mouths to the sticky dancefloor, we dive through the mass of drunken idiots we no longer wish to be a part of. This place doesn’t suit us, so we down one last drink and disappear as someone spills the blood of… Read more

  She wears her city dress something cute, and as I knock back a shot of something spicy, my eyes belong only to her. They grow as big as the moon, and after all these years my hands still itch at the sight of her. Those curves that ripple like the curtains in the dead… Read more

  The streets we walked down as lovers are buried. They exist only as bubbles of time that float around my cock as I bath on my return from work. Remembering her perched on the edge of the bed, she would wait for me to unlatch her bra and cup her breasts. Sometimes I would,… Read more

  She paints me as some morbid drinker, but it’s just not true. I’m misunderstood. A painter who’s lost his way. Tonight she sticks needles into the fleshy bit between my balls and arse. She says she read something in a magazine about how it prolongs erections. I think she does it because she likes… Read more

  Something about Sophie. A piece to detail how fleeting she was. Those blood-red gums. Those eyes that grew so wide at the mysteries that awaited her in London. Write about the curls of her hair. Write about sheltering from the rain under market stalls and her refusal to kiss me because of my cold… Read more

  When I put the ring on her finger, she whispers something about electricity. As she bites through the string I’ve tied around her wrists, she presses her body against mine, but I’m drunk on two bottles of wine and can barely stand. There are bees and butterflies in the garden, and the sight of… Read more

  There’s no explanation, yet she’s always looking for one, just like the rest. All they ever seem to do is constantly search for answers- anything that will give them meaning. But there’s no meaning to any of this. The days tick away, as do so many lives that pass without merit. Words can shine… Read more