Wednesday, 31 May 2017

Tin Cans And String

"The signs were all there, and in our hearts we should've known" - that's what they'll say, that's the drivel they will drone. But not a single one has checked or asked if I'm okay here all alone - when was the last time anyone ever called me on the phone? Fuck your lazy shuffle, this mortal coil I'll make sure is not so feebly thrown. Go do your thing and sigh over my old weathered bones, but don't think that you're doing it for me - those tears are for you alone.

Sunday, 28 May 2017

On The 15th Of May I Thought What I Write Today

Even if ultimately love doesn't solve a thing and the sun does nothing more than trick us with the light it brings, if you loved me I think I could forgive all the upsetting things the knowledge of your existence brings and if you loved me I think I could cope with all the heartache living brings. At least for as long as my body lets me. But you'll never love me, you'll never get me. The absence of your love will forever be just another regret for me.

Empathy

Should I be ashamed to love?
It doesn't seem to have ever been reciprocated much
And this latest one
She's somehow got so deep underneath my skin
It's like I can feel her very essence running through my blood
The begrudging time she affords me an unhappy substitute for her touch
But even if she returned my love
Would that be enough?
Her embrace won't stop me from turning to dust
Maybe my pain is just too much
Just ask Kirsten Dunst.

Saturday, 27 May 2017

A Little Treat For The Fury, Baby

TAke hEarT cUntZ, I'vE goNe inTo tHe FutUrE aBouT FoUrFtEEn yeArS, tHrOUgh an MSN chAt wINdoW aNd I'm FinALly hEre.

I can't believe how fucked the world is now - are you serious? Trump, terrorists, and Timomatic - I mean, I must be delirious. I thought life was shit in twenty'o'three, but look at this shit pile and I think you'll agree: that twenty seventeen is just straight up retarded. In my teens I wished so hard the world would end that the universe looks to have bent over and sharted.

Send me back to '03 - give me rest - give me shelter, save me from the islamo-christian helter skelter.


Saturday, 20 May 2017

Priesthood Blues

I can't help feeling like it's the end of our days. I can tell by all the subtle ways you keep finding in which to avoid my gaze. And a lifetime's experience of knowing no one ever stays. I'm always left with so many things still that I want to say.

Friday, 19 May 2017

Drudgement Day

I can't help feeling like it's the end of my days, so I keep zoning out in a nostalgic malaise. I can't help but drift, mildly dazed, between thoughts of my youth and the places I've strayed.


Saturday, 6 May 2017

This Much Freedom Was All I Could Afford

This much freedom was all I could afford - my budget only allowed me to buy a Ford. No adventure for me, no Jeep Grand Cherokee, nothing for me but being bored. The ad itself struck within me a chord - how outrageous that I have to live my life abhorred, how terrible that my location in life is determined by the sat nav in my dashboard. I will never own a Porsche I'm sure, I've known that since my first conscious thoughts at the age of four. All the nicest things on earth weren't there as a reward, but as a constant reminder of a life I'll never be able to afford.

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Larry The Human Lump

I didn't want to do any more. I'd done enough. I was sick of being rebuffed. I was sick of struggling to keep my life unstuffed. I was sick of the way she constantly acted tough. Everytime I asked a question I'd get face meltingly crushed. I just wanted to walk out the door and find a girl who didn't want to be a cunt, but I was a man completely devoid of front, and so therefore I bore the brunt. I let her walk all over me until I could barely grunt. Until I became so miserable that being walked upon seemed like a stunt - who wouldn't want to be me? Holding up her majesty's favourite pair of pumps. I move grub-like by stretching out and then bending up into a hump, and so I've grown, worn down but comfortably plump.

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Wheezer

She bares her teeth at me and asks me if I want her match, or do my quiet eyes belie a need to glaum her snatch. She rasps at me with fingernails I imagine raking their way down my back, looks away and coughs with a smoker's sickening hack. She lets the wad of mucous that found it's way into her mouth, loose, she hurls it violently at the stoop. "Well," she said, "ain't that what you get. A life of smoking and a mouth full of regret." I couldn't help but think she was still hot as heck, but the yellow fingers put me off, the stained teeth, the way that she stank. "Would you like to come back to my place and meet my cat?" I asked, she laughed, coughed and then said "fuck that."


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Catachresis

You've brought me to the saddest place on earth. I thought the city streets of San Francisco were bad, but somehow this is worse. This is where tiny puppies come to wither, starve and die, children get diarrhea till death and all their parents can do is cry. I just want to go home and be alone, reclaim the safety of my middle class throne, or give it all away quickly, quietly, by wrapping my neck in the curly cord attached to this old bakelite phone.


Under Grundy

He drove the bus himself, like some kind of magical elf, winding it through the choking bastardry, impressing even someone as cynical as me. He stopped, turfed us all out, he called "see you later" with a shout and set us all free to wander the streets. I looked at my friend and said "this is school right?" he said: "yeah, I guess, I mean, well, yeah, like I mean yeah it's a mess, but we must be totally blessed, he's obviously lost his mind, it's the best!" So we got Mexican, saw a film and had a rest, then rang our parents: "you're in the city? What the eff?"