As acid creeps up my oesophagus, stilted rays of sun piss in through the window. It seems as though I forgot to close the curtains the night before, and now daylight sticks its nose in looking as stupid as those bastards outside mowing their lawns and washing their cars even though it’s on the… Read more

  Find faith in your faithless acts and then repent until the sorrow in your bones makes you wish to leave behind all the versions of your former self that linger against your best wishes. Look in the mirror and cry your tears. See the stains on your teeth and tell yourself that from now on… Read more

  Mountains and whores. Darkness and broken poets. Men as pointless as masturbation and children as defunct as their defunct parents. Circles of pain. Circles of truth. The curls of your hair and the blemishes on your skin that remind you so cruelly that you’re only human, and that despite the hopes and dreams that… Read more

  In these quiet hours, your chest rises and falls. In these hours you’ll never know, your nostrils flare as you kick your bare feet against my shins. Smoking my cigarettes, I just sit there watching you thinking about how natural you are compared to all the rest, and how much I would like to crawl inside of… Read more

  Light my cigarette and then your own, and then maybe call in sick so we can spend the afternoon in bed together reading dog-eared books while watching vintage pornography on your laptop. The shadows that lurk on the streets outside, they make us feel as if we’re inseparable. They make us feel almost as if we’re complete.… Read more

  Twitching your nose, you smell burger vans serving up endless portions of cheesy chips as leaves crunch beneath your worn pair of Dr. Martens. With Mogwai blaring on your headphones so loud and desolate and magnificent that you know you’ll end up crying if you don’t lower the volume, you roll a cigarette as those around… Read more

We could go night swimming, and I could hold you in my arms and together we’d sink beneath the surface, and such a thing would make us feel as natural as we could ever wish. We could be cinnamon lovers skirting the edges of time or arguing lovers outside fast food joints saying words each hope… Read more

There’s electricity in the way we touch. Not the kind they write about in poems. No, the electricity we share is perverse and sadistic. It’s the sort that fries small children who wander onto train tracks in search of adventure. The kinda shit that electrocutes racoons and drunkards that climb power masts in an attempt… Read more