Welcome back to the shitshow. I’ll finger you like it’s our last night out at McCooley’s. My head swirls with liquor stained imagery. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. It’s a postmodern existential crisis at its finest.￼ If one more person takes a crap selfie, gives it a shit caption and slaps […]Read more "Ambivalence is the key"
They’re going to raid Downing Street, lop off some heads, then paint a Westminster primary school with Johnson’s blood and use Corbyn’s entrails as decoration for a new communal area. I’ve got no problems with this brutal outcome. Hang Rothko’s art on the new walls of a fallen England. The world’s going down in flames. […]Read more "Britain’s going to fall, so let’s make it sexy"
My life is a swirling, disorienting mess. I hate myself. I’m wounded from the past like the rest of you. Coming to terms with the moment isn’t getting any easier. I’m yearning for death. The morality of continued existence poses itself as a defeatist conundrum. Sure you could have it all, but sooner or later […]Read more "My reputation precedes me"
He was curled up in her lap. His lips wrapped around her nipple. She played with his hair pulling on it causing him to softly moan in pain. Milk stained the rim of his lips. She watched the pig sucking hungrily at her sore teat. She was nursing him with apathy, like she would her […]Read more "Flash fiction: Farming"
All good things come to an end. There’s a time limit on it all. I’ve broken hearts and I’ve had my heart broken. There’s been no right or wrong either time. There’s some good, some bad. I just wonder where the worth we once had for one another sits by the end of it all. […]Read more "My bad"
Honey, pull me down to the floor. Lick my face with your lust and tell me all your secrets. Fuck me senseless. Ride me like it’s the morning after the apocalypse and we’re the only survivors. Sure I’ve been around the bend and back again in just my underwear and loafers, but at the end […]Read more "Today’s dance floor"
Reality stagnates and fractures, the guts of humanity pour onto the cobbles we sway down. Now here I am staggering down some decrepit streets. Bleeding profusely and trying to make sense of what it means to be loathed in the moment. You can exchange as many words as you want, but it seems no matter […]Read more "Abused bodies and dead bloody poets"
The precipe of the good and the bad has been disfigured beyond recognition. There’s a beaten child in the corner crying for some humanity. It’s arguable cancer will take them before suicide. Their Dad left for a pack of smokes, rumour is he isn’t coming back. There’s little to care about when these might just […]Read more "Intravenous malformation"
Blistering loss, sobering realisations, the white sterility of the bone which protrudes from the skin. She gets on top riding his cock Death grows Death consumes Death ruminates Sex Sex Sex A wounded body Chewed out lust Vile pain Scratch marks galore. She grinds like a convulsing junkie A drop of blood is drawn as […]Read more "Poem: Virginal"
Violence in the streets, degradation in the sheets. “Mr. Brizell get a bloody hold of yourself. This soul of yours is in ruins. There’s talk of your sickening behaviour, unrepentant sefishness and wild romancing. We want your head” My sunglasses are askew and I’ve misplaced my heart down a grimy alley. All in all the […]Read more "If you’re going to sit on my face, I may as well just be your man"