Some TV and a hot dog washed down with Cherry Coke followed by images of a car crash on the M1 that pave the way for daydreams involving alluring women with supple hips slithering upon hot white sand and then it’s stray dogs burning on the streets of Moscow and for hours I’m just sat… Read more

A gust of wind blows her down to the river, and there, among the flowers and trees, she experiences a measure of peace that makes her feel light on her feet. Rummaging through her bag, she pulls out a few slices of bread wrapped in kitchen roll. Breaking the bread into pieces, she kneels down… Read more

Kids just kids just blood red gums and spit and cum and corked white wine and shaved hairs that tickle my tongue and the tips of my fingers and there’s a taxi outside but she’s not ready cause she’s bleeding yeah she’s bleeding it’s that time and I’m looking down at my junk which is… Read more

Cold water then it warms a little. Cold tiles beneath her feet like the moon and all those rocks that fly through space without us ever knowing their fate. She stands on tiptoes and looks through the window at the street below. It’s chilly and sunny and smells like coffee. The shower takes an age… Read more

People dream of being free, yet their idea of freedom sees them forever bound to a world that cares less for them than it does cattle. Freedom for the likes of us is in a state of mind. It comes from untethering oneself from a system designed solely to reign you in. I want no… Read more

When she puts on her coat, she pops the buttons into place before tying back her hair. It’s windy out there, and the days are still so cold. When she steps into the garden, light bounces off the windscreen of her car, dazzling her with startling, biblical imagery. It feels like she’s having a revelation,… Read more

I’m not a man. I’m not sure what I am, but it’s not a man. I’m just some kid who got lost along the way. Like that one in Flight of the Navigator when he fell down a hill and woke up after several years not having aged a day, or one of the Lost… Read more

In the morning comes a tinned breakfast. In the tin comes beans, sausages, a burger, some weird egg thing and a few scrawny scraps of bacon. It’s unhealthy as fuck. It’s an abomination, but it eases the hangover, and with each bite, life feels a little better, sorta. Too many cigarettes last night. Stomach’s suffering,… Read more

She claims to be unwell, but in her belly, she holds the moon and the stars, and in her veins, flows not blood but milk, so how could she feel anything but heavenly? When she stands in the doorway as I’m drying myself off after showering, she eyes me up while rolling a cigarette pretending… Read more