Stepping foot out the shower and towelling herself dry, try as she might, she just can’t seem to scrub away the guilt that stains her like a birthmark. Lonely like her mum, she sells herself cheap while I talk to broken radiators in the hope of finding God. I never have much luck, though, and… Read more

  To the memory of all those distant towns that claw at my fingers as they hang over the edge of the bed at 3 am. Mouth open and snoring, I dream of parks and lakes as they swim with faces forever in a stasis yet still capable of getting under my skin. Despite the… Read more

  Junky boy-man in the toilet of an aeroplane sticking needles into the left of his testicle- the one with the cyst in it. The last time I saw her, she’d said she wanted me to come all over her. Even the face? Especially the face. So I did as I was told and spread… Read more

  In the pendulum swings of her heart, the days of our love tear into pieces and float on puddles by the side of the road where we argued the night before last. In the rings around her eyes, there’s a different story to be told in each one, but I’ve let my temper get… Read more

  Falling asleep in the back of her car, the sky trembles and moans like a rapist being beaten to death on the streets of Cambodia. Picturing all kinds of perversion while struggling to keep an eye out for strangers, she presses her body against mine and pulls the blanket up so she’s completely covered. For… Read more

  On her windowsill, there resides a colony of flies, and sometimes, when she’s not looking, they get between us while we’re making love. When she’s got me where she wants and the flies crawl on her belly, they move over every inch of our flesh until they find themselves nestling on moist lips. She’s got these eyes… Read more

  Listening to King Crimson and picking at scabs until they bleed, I hear wind chimes and the distant cries of young lovers as their lives implode for the seventh time this week. As mountains shift and stars melt upon my tongue, it snows despite being the end of April. Walking the streets a few… Read more

  In spirals of ancient silence, she is a star boundless against the exploding skies that still linger over our heads even though they died centuries before we were born. In some South-American country with no name, a bus driver’s sat at the wheel with a bullet lodged in his zygomatic arch. Blood pouring from… Read more

  Drunk and foaming at the mouth, I inspect her photographs and shake my head. Her body fascinates me, and yet her eye for beauty is somewhat lacking. It’s always the same; young girls going to London fascinated by its culture; tempted by the bright lights and sounds of the exotic. And yet so quickly… Read more

  In those blistered mirrors, she looks at the marks on her arms and grimaces. Despite the tattoos and attitude she uses as camouflage, she’s the same as she was when they were fresh; each scar telling a story she’d give anything to forget, the past isn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.… Read more