She has half a face, and I have two secrets. Drinking to numb the boredom, she slides her hand under my shirt. Her fingers are like spiders, and as my teeth sit on edge from too much whiskey, a cigarette only makes things worse. When the lights flash, and she undresses, I go to… Read more

  When I take her, I’m trying my best to erase the stains of every lover she’s ever had. The harder I go, the more she struggles to catch her breath. She needs to know that I’m the only one. That even before she knew me, she was cheating by laying with another. There’s a… Read more

  The girl who dances. She’s honey and wine. Through fields of green, the leaves fall beneath her feet. Through the open window, the sun is replaced by endless clouds. Sometimes, the days offer nothing but despair. But in her heart, there’s a certain something. Those around her swallow themselves, they bow down to cheapness.… Read more

  Your body so lifeless and riddled with hesitation marks as those about you know exactly what they’re doing. Only they don’t, so quit sinking and rise above it. Your clothes in plastic bags as you drift from one disaster to the next. Sleep on the stairs; sleep in the arms of those you don’t… Read more

  Staying up late and drinking beer. Some writing too, but the words won’t come like they should; my urges instead are confined to soft machines, and no amount of literature can alter how I feel. An image of some blonde on the dance floor wrecks my momentum, and now I think only about her… Read more

  Psalms for those lacking in minerals; a summer of warm beer and handjobs to ease the passage from lost to found. My favourite breast- my favourite taste as you bend backwards bleeding from the knees and reciting the letters of the alphabet in reverse. I want to take you again, but the air in… Read more

  Put one word after the other. It’s as fucked up as that. You stick a knife in your belly and rip out your insides; you pick away at old wounds so they may never heal. My art demands sacrifice; it demands that I hurt. I’m not looking for pity, just a bosom to rest… Read more

  The sweetness of your lips as we drink vodka to block out ordinary pleasures; they remind me of teenage bloodlust and the sensation of drowning that comes with wanting to write for a living. Let’s get drunk and chase each other down streets we don’t know of; let me be your man even though… Read more

  Before my night shift, I’m sat in the smoking shelter with the stray cat that’s been hanging around work these past few weeks. Jumping up next to me, we sit watching people going to and from the bar across the road while I occasionally stroke his nose. In silence, we keep each other company… Read more

  Safely into the night, lovers fall into semi-precious arms. I am elsewhere, drinking at the bottom of a garden watching shooting stars to the distant sounds of Interpol. As my drunken fingers roll a cigarette, several miles up the road, some kid jumps in front of a train. The next day, they collect the… Read more