Although I’m a child of the light, I do miss the dead of winter. Waking to a darkened, lonely world is one of my favourite things. Watching shadows dancing in the rain as I dart down lonely streets on my way to work—it only ever soothes me. In fact, it hardens my nipples no end. Read more

For some, a simple love is never enough. For the many, however, it’s all they’ll ever need. The words that blow through the open window offer a million different meanings for the same thing. The things I cling to are made of sand. The connections that have shaped my life—the visions that have guided my Read more

Waking from my nap, I ventured into bright, blinding sunshine. The light washed over me, illuminating with immaculate clarity the full extent of the ink that floats across my eyes. It was biblical. The town was like a dream. No shadows, just miles of flat, sparkling land, rolling into the ocean. In my head, the Read more

The wind tickles the leaves. The leaves are the hairs in my beard. She strokes my beard when we fuck. In the throes of mimicry, the wind creeps through the window, whipping my arse straight out of a porno from the ’70s. The wind knows every inch of me, unlike me. I know less about Read more

Last night, I dreamt about one of the dogs. Little Darcy. Somehow, she’d become trapped beneath the floorboards of the old house. It’s been six months since I moved out. How did that happen? Feels like six days. Her desperate cries rattled through my sleeping brain, and no matter how much I tried to find Read more

There was a time when the time before this slipped out to sea. Now it laps my feet, tickling my toes and inviting me to lose my mind. To ruminate. To obsess. To become one with the shadows that caress these bones that were once smaller than atoms. Sometime, in the murky future, I’ll drift Read more

At my feet, a row of ants devours a dying bee. I’m drunk and don’t know where I am. The ants carry the bee off in a ceremony I’m not privy to. I once buried a bee beneath a tree. It was a gentle, touching act, born not out of the need to be seen Read more

In the morning, I survive. The hangover, a reminder of my cheap attempt at leaving this place behind knowing full well I’d be back again. Because that’s what drinking is—a half-arsed wish to say goodbye but not having the balls to go the whole way. On mornings like these, I flirt with the death of Read more