Friday, 22 April 2016

Patrik In

I never had anything to lose before, and even now that I do I still can't seem to scrape myself off the floor. I always thought life's greatest moments were excruciating chores; birthdays, gatherings, families, and life events all of which I totally abhorred. But now, each one of those feels like picking at a sore, scratching my way down toward the wound that's at the core, and at that core, there at the bottom, everything I've never gotten: the years past that were all so rotten, and the future that awaits: fleeting, and soon forgotten. My parents always did say that I was wasting my life, but what was the alternative? A stable pointless job and fifty something years with the same slowly ageing wife? I'd rather end it all my way with one quick slice.

Sunday, 17 April 2016

Dear James

Hey, it's Dom. I just saw this - I just wanted to say - I was driving home the other day, along a stretch of road that had no intersection or even any turns to mention. I had to slow down though, because it was full of flashing lights - police, ambulance, two tow trucks, all pulled over at the side. And as I drifted past I saw a group of them, serious looking uniformed men, watching the tow truck drivers and then, and then I saw what they we doing - the tiny mobility scooter that they were maneuvering - winching it up onto the tow truck's tray. Whoever was driving that, I guess, was having a pretty bad day. Reminded me of that old dear, driving face first off the pier. Or perhaps it was just two old friends, riding double-dink until the very end.

Friday, 15 April 2016


Where do I go from here? I'm lost, but finding my way again along the same old path is my single biggest fear. To stumble blindly down along that rickety old pier, the only exits end in drowning and the end is fairly near. And on the way a series of disappointing years that I walk through, bobbing to the soundtrack of varying intensities of jeers. Just for once I'd like to hear a single person cheer, to lure me down another path, to take over from me and steer. But I'm lost and the only guide I seem to find is at the bottom of a beer.

Monday, 4 April 2016

Longing For The Perks

You're always driving in the stake, twisting up my words and calling everything a mistake. You're always saying we should take a break, as if I'm nothing and your sporadic tolerance for my existence is completely fake. I'm guilty of nothing more than being slightly awake - how easy it is for the stupid to find their solace and their slake. I'd like it if just for one time that your shouts could make me shake, but I feel nothing, not even a desperately precious little ache.