Sunday, 31 August 2014

She was watching Doctor Who whilst her family fell apart

Scribing notes in shorthand, her skinny fingers paused. They pondered the sprawling scrawl of dead letters sitting saturnine on the script. Pushing pencil lead against the paper heavily, they turned the graphite into shivers of lustrous dust. She pursed her lips and lightly blew them, sending shimmers across the page and about her desk. He'd stopped talking. She'd stopped writing. The pencil's nub found itself rolling around in the corner of her mouth. He asked her where she'd learnt to write like that. It was her first day. Her grandmother, she had answered. Her grandmother, she had said, saw secretarial work as a profession, not as a stop-gap before or between having children. His temper tempered, he loosened his tie and dropped his guard. She had seduced him with the lost art of shorthand.

Thursday, 28 August 2014


All is well for him and his, as the laughs escape their lips.
His children skip gaily around him like a maypole with their bodies wrapped in chintz.
And I sit here a muddled fool, slouching on the bench,
A drink in hand and a mouth that fills the air up with my stench

All I'm good for any more is darkening up the place.
I darken stools and corners in the pubs, and darken up the space—
Between the armchair in my living room and this god awful place,
And cast a shadow over photographs of a long forgotten face.

That's not to say that I've forgot, for clearly that's not so,
But everyone that we both knew all left us long ago.
They scurried out the gaping cracks that oh so quickly grow,
When life becomes too complex and raw emotion starts to show.

And so she was gone, and all our friends too,
The madness amidst the solitude grew.
She was alone,
the night she died;
But I'm alone,
whilst I'm alive.

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Terrible Toothsome

She looked like a meth addict who had had reverse liposuction. Bits of flab wobbled grotesquely under blotchy layers of worn out skin. She was here for the usual, a slice of carrot cake and a tall cappuccino. The carrot cake, she would always tell the clerk, was part of her '5 a day', since it contained actual chunks of carrot. Nearly always she would drop an inane anecdote, such as: "my dog turns four this Tuesday"; or, "I recently rediscovered cruskits"; or, "I can't wait until my holiday next month". She punctuated the last one by bending her bulbous arms at the elbow, throwing her hands half-heartedly in the air and releasing a sound from her mouth which sounded like "yeeeyyyy". Invariably the clerk would politely push their lips some direction or other, indicating that they'd heard her, but doing their best not to engage in back and forth banter.

She would groan into a chair and spill beyond its meagre attempts at support. The unseen sticker on the underside of the chair had seen better days. It's maximum load suggestion went wholly ignored. The cake would disappear rapidly and neatly, despite its crumbly constitution. The coffee, lukewarm as it was, however was always savoured. She would sit and look at the people going by as she sipped, thinking how easy she had it. Thinking how others seemed so tortured, struggling with this or that, worried about money and family and work and stress. She couldn't remember the last time she worried. Everything left to worry about was long gone.

Tuesday, 5 August 2014


That cold grey sea. That cold grey sea. I feel it's become a part of me. I fear it's become part of me. I fear the sea. That cold grey sea. That took my father away from me. That turned my mother away from me. That cold grey sea that swept at me. That leapt at me. That crept in me. It filled my heart and it chilled my bones. It made sure I was all...

...all alone.

Sunday, 3 August 2014

We go so lo

And the ocean laps away at me, slowly eating away at all that I have done. Whilst a thousand miles from me, chattering voices meld into a droning fuzz. Like leaning over a cliff, below me a watery abyss, I hold on tight to him. But he lets go of my hand. And he lets me fall in.

And then he turns and walks away.