We wait in our room for the war to be over. We spoon beneath a hidden moon on a lake of frozen ice. From time to time it snows. From time to time we change our minds. Sometimes we’re lovers, enemies, strangers. Mostly a mixture of all three. When we fuck, she makes me… Read more

  Bare-footed in a field of corn. Crushed flowers beneath toes that taste of marzipan. It could be fantasy, or maybe yesterday. You in a dress with a waist that fits the shape of my hands. You with shaved legs so smooth it’s like kissing silk. Candles. Yasmine. Absinth. Let the water run down our… Read more

  Cold mornings of bus journeys and sandwiches bought from Sainsbury’s. I wanted chicken, but they only had cheese and onion. Don’t like cheese and onion. She bought us one each as I waited outside smoking a cigarette even though it was too cold and I was hungover. When she handed it to me, I… Read more

  You hide away your love despite painting yourself as a lover. You say you know what it feels like, but all you know is what it’s like to paint a picture that isn’t real. As you part the curtains and look out across the city, you remember how it used to be, and yet… Read more

  She drives. I sit and smoke. She tells me to put it out. Or else? Or else you don’t get none. Meh. Meh? Yeah, meh. I’m not in the loving mood, I say. So what mood are you in? She’s ready to come right back at me with some kinda put down but I’m tired of life… Read more

Those that live to impress others who couldn’t care less. The cycle that never ends. It’s a way of life so many suffer from because they think it gives them meaning- they think it makes them come alive in the eyes of those around them- but those eyes are long dead- as dead as the sky… Read more

  The old woman stands there looking at me as I light a smoke. It’s bitterly cold, and the ground is covered in a thin sheet of ice. She has one of those bags on wheels that pensioners always push their shopping around in, and she’s smartly dressed- smart enough to look out of place.… Read more

  Flaming Sambuca’s, tattoos beneath pert breasts, and bar jobs serving housing estates whose residents never think of anything beyond the end of their coked-up noses. Shall we watch Shaun of the Dead while eating pizza and chocolate gateau? Shall we make love soon after and then stroll hand in hand through the falling snow… Read more

  Strands of hair. Women. Bleeding gums. Lost satellites that keep drifting further into the unknown reaches of the universe. Is it still Sunday in the mouth of a wormhole? Does love still exist on the event horizon of a black hole? When you curl into a ball and wish your life away, do you… Read more