I just wanted to be Bukowski. it’s three years on, and look at me now; a severe depressive, who doesn’t get out of bed before 12pm, and can barely handle his emotions. Writing has become an afterthought, my own ambition handicapped by my overwhelming sense of futility. I need to stop using my blog in […]Read more "eyes crying? nose running? uterus bleeding? hotel trivago?"
I have a recurring dream which plagues me. At this point in its existence you could consider it a waking dream. Whenever shit goes bad, I find myself in a hotel lobby, bedraggled and hopeless, on what I presume is an unholy cocktail of substances, that keeps me barely lucid and leaves me periodically blacking […]Read more "Mr. Brizell, we’re glad to see you again"
Months ago, if you’d have asked, I would have probably said I was happy. Unconventional, yes, but happy nonetheless. Fast forward to today (4/12/17), all of that carefully curated happiness has rotted away. The dream is dead, and hope is a cold corpse. Now it’s just me, a cold room, 7am wake-ups, and a notification-less […]Read more "Untitled (or) Leaving myself"
I’m listening to King Krule’s The Ooz (Released today). It’s a masterpiece. Now I’m back to familiar territory romanticising past experiences, thinking about the lost love. The ones who’ve moved on and figured their lives out. This year I met and fell for a girl from Spain. It was a strange, inexplicable romance, that felt […]Read more "Eyes red and raw"
No reprise needed here. Recently I’ve been having what I guess could be called an awakening of some sort; think George Harrison or Josh Tillman becoming Father John Misty. I’ve begun work on something big to say the least. It’s been brewing in me for a very long time. With five years in my rear […]Read more "I’m a guy with a hat and I know I like my hat"
I know a girl. That’s a mouthful. In fact to rephrase that; I know girls: I know one with an ever growing predilection for drugs, I know one with a horrible, soul crushingly bad taste in boys, I know one so narcissistic that the photos she takes of her bath products she thinks makes her […]Read more "Beautiful pristine untouched virgin girl / messy cracked broken sexually active sad girl"
Where the title came from? The corridors of my mind, whilst I sat idly listening to Deftones enveloped in the moment. My computer screen blank. Now I sit in a macdonalds still listening to Deftones, thinking of the girl who long ago said she blocked out all her bad memories, to the point where she […]Read more "She cuts her ties, then her wrists"
Familiar respite; Reading Keats, listening to Morrissey, drowned in sadness. Scribbling away in a battered notebook of poems about love and loss: poems you’ve read and poems you haven’t. You told me you pictured our future. Just weeks ago, blissful as ever. Now you claim just friendship. By last night you’d called me a twat. I’ve […]Read more "Poem: We’ll hug (for the times)"
Long day, long week, long month, long three months. Not much point in keeping count. Internal confliction is a rather terrible thing to feel, we are taught to stick to our beliefs and never feel anything else. You want to experiment with the same-sex, oh no don’t do that, that’s wrong. You really should. You […]Read more "I’m pretty sure I love you because you make me feel less cynical"
Tis the early days of January. I look hard through the hue of rustic leaves. I search through the stacks of Wilde, Keats and Bukowski. I narrowly avoid my o’er streaked phone scarred to the remnants of a haunted past, my past. Encumbered with self-imposed exile duelling nightly with the tv and lovelorn feelings. In […]Read more "Poem: Softly lost"