The map is folded in all of the wrong places, everything is out of place. I am no longer sure where I stand, where I've been, lost in a foreign land in a cross-stitch of coalescing continents, tectonic plates shifting beneath unsteady feet, the water rising and the sun setting behind no visible horizon, fractured... Continue Reading →
...are all great poets, but the great poets are not always great songwriters, just people with pens making it happen, dreams of being the next Leonard Cohen, futile notion, no eclipsing the author, every word just a drop in an ocean of better words from better writers, PJ Harvey, Simon and Garfunkel, rhyme and reason,... Continue Reading →
...and wondering if you're working, stood behind the counter as you do for twenty hours a week, eager to speak to people you don't know, selling everything and anything, talking about ducks with the mother buying post-its with beaks for her kids, duck-shaped fridge magnets, duck-shaped erasers (you and your fucking ducks), the woman who... Continue Reading →
I still have a hard time making eye contact, so apologise if during conversations I seem to be studying the linoleum, more likely to focus on a skirting board than a face, avoiding irises for canvases unless I've had a beer or six beforehand in which case you'll find me new, having worked up the... Continue Reading →
I am not as cool as I was one year ago. I am not as interesting as I once seemed to be. Speaking up seems to require extra effort. Conversation is not as easy as I remember it being. Introductions are harder than they should be. The women are prettier; I am pretty much the... Continue Reading →
All hope, abandon, all remorse, relinquish, faith, find it feeble. We keep nothing when we leave. We go nowhere except to either the fire, or the earth. Sink or rise, ash or dust. Always towards the black regardless of whether we recognise its shadow or not.
...to the sun stabbing through the leaves with only coppers in the pockets of my jeans. Second time this year only June, arms damp with dew and head heavy with many memories of you. Another forlorn walk home due to lack of bus fare, passing storefront windows, leaves in my hair, leaving them there. Looking... Continue Reading →
Riding the Peter Pan bus out of Manhattan and hoping that Neverland isn't any more than six hours north of Jersey, and if it works out that it is, then death best be the next stop, because I don't have the patience to put up with the stench of piss for any longer than I... Continue Reading →
Perspective, the closest I've come to eating meat in two years is biting her lips in-between meals. The only flesh I've tasted in that time is her own. I'm not sure that she understands, likely gets frustrated (hides it well) when arranging dinner dates, researching beforehand. She knows I mean well; I know she's trying.