The grey days and missing days where dead relatives and unchained lovers drift away without you even realising. The dirty crowd and how it thinks of itself as a collective shining light, and not the mass of crap and regurgitated dreams it really is. No beauty, and no success, just this lump of gristle that… Read more

They keep tip-toeing in slow motion and even though it’s day there’s no sun only the moon and even though they move so quietly I can hear their feet crashing down like thunder. Red lips. Red gums. And how I’ve hushed those gums and how I’ve skirted the edge and peered at their naked bodies… Read more

  Ten thousand tonnes of clouds and the image of a virgin fiddling with razor blades while soaking in a hot bath. Her body is unknown, untouched. Those breasts of hers, those ridges of flesh where the fingers of no man have ever teased. They speak to me of many great things, but words only… Read more

  They write poetry you wouldn’t even wipe your arse with. They spew out these passages on love and identity as if they actually meant something, but their problem is they don’t know shit because they’re not alive. They exist, but that’s about it. They’re so comfortable within their skin and the world around them.… Read more

    Put the Christmas tree up earlier. It was in a box under the stairs, and now it’s looking spunky with three thousand fairy lights on it and a shit load of golden tinsel and handcrafted ornaments I bought in a garden centre with pocket money back when I was a kid. Drinking a… Read more

  Dreams of being a werewolf. Daydreams where she lifts her legs high above her head and squirts out her desires so they shower my masturbating hands and bouncing balls. When I stir I know I’m being crude and I know her image deserves far better but there’s no use in denying these urges that… Read more

  Is she a solar flare? Is she a mirage in this desert of words and work and words and work and grey days and boring days and sleeping days and beer days mixed with headaches and bellyaches and toothache and thinning blood? Does a nosebleed tell me a transformation is taking place? Does a… Read more

  Is it in a kiss, or in words, or a gaze? Can you feel it in the air or is it just the flesh? Is it in a cigarette or the bottle? Is it a knife in the guts, or is it something we have no comprehension of? Don’t know. Don’t care. Well, that’s… Read more

  While she sleeps, I sneak downstairs and grab a few beers before sneaking back up and observing her. Pulling back the covers, I admire her body while masturbating over her feet, but before cumming she wakes and snatches a glass from the bedside table and throws it at my face. Striking me in the… Read more

  Was supposed to write something meaningful, something majestic and sad, but couldn’t quite get in the right mood. So instead the words roll as and when they see fit. On the bookshelf next to my bed, there’s a bottle of Jack Daniels that’s been sat there since last Christmas. Shouldn’t really drink the stuff… Read more