Grabbing a coffee, we sit on a bench on the grounds of the church, smoking and chatting shit about this and that. In the sun, we’re purring cats, chewing the fat of plump rats between our shiny, rabid teeth. Her eyes are a brilliant blue. Mine grey. The skies swirl about her hair, which is Read more

The infinite blue skies and the promise of promises glowed before my eyes like nuggets of gold. I followed them like a donkey going after a carrot. The orange light, spectral and warm, reminded me of childhood summer holidays in Europe. Gentler, more innocent times, when the threat of death and decay was far away, Read more

The humid weather stole the breath from my lungs as I slept. The night is a thief. It’s always been a thief. It steals my shit yet I always go back for more. The second I woke, morning strangled the life out of me as sweat poured from my body. I was all prone, like Read more

In town, heat rises from the cracked pavements like steam. It melts the flesh of the lowly ones who roam in search of something to alleviate their tawdry woes. Travelling away from them, I leave behind the tangled lives of the masses and give myself to the trees, fields, and everything that’s the opposite of Read more

Standing over the sink, I absent-mindedly gaze into next door’s kitchen window. The walls are the colour of chip fat. The painting on the wall over the sink, crooked and appalling. Vague, abstract shapes, framed not to benefit the image but rather, to appear sophisticated to the untrained eye. Groaning like someone double my age Read more

Standing in a chippy on a Friday night with the rain pissing down outside, the world is drowned but I feel okay. Should’ve stayed in and saved some money, but I wanted my fix of junk food. If I could, I’d live off sausages and chips like a fat kid would, forever and ever, amen. Read more

When I think of her, I’m overwhelmed by the aroma of wet pavements. Wet pavements adorned with wet leaves. In the month of October. When love is dead and alive at the same time and the smell of petrichor hits the back of my throat like a shot of whisky. I stutter. I gag. I’m Read more

Hunger comes about as it always does—about every half hour. I’m like a kid with worms. In the kitchen, the fridge contains food that’s not really food. Butter. Ketchup. A few eggs. I don’t mind eggs, but they’ll never quench a hunger like mine. In the cupboard where the spiders lurk, there’s a tin of Read more

The keys of a piano ring out like the memory of a kiss. It’s hazy. It Swims. We’re creatures of lust, yet the thrill of wasting days, weeks, months and years is second to none. The harmonies linked to the feelings that make me what I am sweep me off my feet. Yet, if I Read more