They asked me what I would do if I didn’t have my writing. Um, probably stay in bed all day crying I guess because everything hurts and yet at the same time I feel completely numb. Maybe you should see a doctor? They might be able to give you something. I’ve been to doctors and they gave… Read more

  As I’m trying to write, she removes the laptop from my hands and slides down my trousers and pants. At first, I’m annoyed, and so is she because not much is going on but then I keep looking at her breasts and even though I don’t want to I can’t help it. Trying to… Read more

  With every word that’s written comes the deconstruction of the man you used to know. With every expression comes a changing that breaks down barricades. See them crumble- see them collapse- then breathe in the dust until you choke like I have choked so many times down so many years that have now lost… Read more

  You must know by now that I’m an avid fan. You must feel it in your bones that my idea of love is not like any other love. The dreams people dream- how boring they seem compared to what we keep within our shattered heads. But just because they’re shattered doesn’t mean they’re broken. Our… Read more

  Small mouth. Brunette. Empty bottles of vodka with Vicodin tablets spread like sweeties on the bedside table as beads of sweat cling to every inch of what she is. Watching old pornos, I place my fingers inside her mouth and rub my cock against her belly. I tell her I’m going to come, but she… Read more

  The rain falls as do the bodies in faraway lands and as my heart sinks and the mist that escapes my mouth hangs in the air like a ghost, the book with my poems in slips from my fingers to the ground and lands in a puddle. With the pages soaked and the words dissolving,… Read more

  In fresh snow, there are two beer cans planted like flags in some unknown country of the night. The snow is as soft as her flesh- the flesh of her belly in particular. There was a man who once stole her dreams. Not really a man, more an entity with no features. He took… Read more

  The moon isn’t my friend. It’s like a lover that’s drifted far out of reach from my arms, and every time I gaze up at her pale face, I’m reminded of what once was, and what once was, was a beautiful thing. The sky is filled with clouds and a river with so many… Read more

  We talk about sex and death and what it means to be inhuman humans. We discuss the flavour and never the facts, and with every drink that gets downed our hearts pump perversely so perverse in fact it does us more harm than good. Do we want to be in love with what can… Read more