Writing II


Boots
“Alien mercury, greens and deep blues swim beneath us and begin to rotate like those Dutch Starry Nights.

Lines
“We wander around this space age town, a place that time and progress forgot. History has a cruel way of dealing with optimism

The Common
“He pulled a face at her. Luminous green eyes, rife with mischief, surveyed him carefully. Curling red locks tumbled around her pale face.

Weave
“I roll over with some effort and stare at the ceiling until I can escape impossibility and return to a safety I don’t want anymore.

800%
“It’s not that I don’t think I can do any better.  I just don’t want to.

We, The Post Coitus
“We’d been on the train for the past three hours, one of which had been – as you put it – pens and pencils. That is, in the language of a normal person, stationary.

Touch The Endings, Hold Them Dear
“She is autumn to me – straggled and terracotta, wise and damp.

Video Et Tacao
“We were bored, nestled deep in that suffocating malaise that only happens around 4pm on a Sunday.

Dead Boxes
“I wish I could sleep, but my heart keeps beating…the only healthy thing I still own.

On Objects
“She unzips her rucksack, pulls out a three quarter bottle full of Scotch and vodka mixed together into some cocktail that makes the glass tremble.

Goats
“She brings her head – streaked with rainwater and hair – back into the car and demands to know why I’m slowing down.

I Was Bored Before I Even Began
“I watched as men and women walked naked except for slabs of metal hacked from car bonnets, like so many turtles learning to walk for the first time.

Fraser
“I look across to a red painted figure of a crossed face, hacked and slashed by this maniac snoozing on my toes.

Flux
“She holds up a clawed hand…and tells me, as only someone under the influence of powerful narcotics can, the importance of the chord progressions in Tonight’s The Night…”

Kinsugi
“One day, I’m going to tell you that I love you.  And it will ruin your world.

Bee Jams
“I remember those feelings of invincibility; not just in myself but everything we touched.  Every carved tree would live forever.

Patience
“I don’t care about time these days.  When I look around me I see time as a cancer.

Tinker Hill
“I want magic every day.  I want freedom.  Poetry.  Sin.

Year Of The Cat
“Their safe place is an empty echo chamber, dried leaves, the morality and mental strength of an abandoned spider’s web.

Rust And Old Lace
“Years later, I’m in a pet store with my partner and our young son. I haven’t looked directly into her eyes for nine days.

Amber Bottles
“A gentle breath of wind dragged its long fingers over the still sea.  Flat and transparent like glass, we bobbed gently as it blew through us.

Say Your Name, Kiss Your Hair
“Some evenings, when it all became too much, I’d gently snake my jeans down and jack off onto the dusty floor.

Indent
“These old American convertibles, like oil tankers to us Brits, always feel so lazy until you give them a sniff of a beach.

Shiny Rails
“The shoulder and the lapel is still dusted with her make up.  The hug was so tight, she left herself behind on me.

Milk Bottles
“I took her to see a skeleton in a glass coffin, in a corner of the local library filled with Restricted Books.

Ballast And Bulldogs
“You said to me; ‘you’ve always been an optimist’ and, to my annoyance, you stubbed out another cigarette on your forehead

Alyssa
“‘Trust us.’ The girl’s voice was metallic and rasping. Alyssa could see yellow wounds on her arms.

Bench Lovers
“They must always be terrifying, and special.

Bravo
“I imagine I will save her one day.  But I fail to realise – again and again and again – that not everyone is in trouble.

Breathing
“When the wind turned the canopy softly fell like snow, skin faded to a translucent sheen, our lips turned from red to blue.

Rhubarb
“When she flirts, she scratches an old ear piercing and thinks of gameshow themes to slow the pace of her heart

Deer Dance
“I am fucked, burned and stolen.  The smell of melted hair hangs as you try and set my knees on fire.

Flag Of No Country
“The totems need not become memorials. Our End need not become The End.

Prancing Horses
“The first few hours you’d feel nothing except your mouth slowly drying up, and then the first effects would drift across you like dandelion seeds.

Binge
“I raised an eyebrow and leaned over. The spot picking stopped and the bug eyes spun to face me. I said; You’re just a born again hooligan, only to be a Queen again.

Moss
“I told her about the legends I’d read about; old blues masters selling their souls at the ancient crossroads and coming back with chords that could wake the dead and bring them to orgasm.

Lover’s Spit
“Together they meet in a stolen car, and as the cymbals crash again and the guitars burst into a wall of noise, they are spectacular again….

Old Jack’s Crossing
“What a strange moment for you to join me. I can smell thick tar and diesel blowing down this green tunnel, accompanied by the faint, dismal clank of tired iron stumbling together.