The word begone is a Russian doll. A small, single word, which contains so many others; and when all the smaller words inside line up, they look like a bridge: Be Beg Ego Go On One.
Some days I am the flower beneath the machine. And the machine rolls slowly on, blocking the sun, without a care for what it tramples beneath.
Without the sleeping bag I’m just somebody up early in the morning, sitting under a tree. With the sleeping bag I’m nobody up early, sitting under a tree: a slight, but important difference in how I’ll be perceived.
Nobody has to do anything wrong to end up living a life that feels like it’s not their own, all they have to do is take a step back, and hope for the best.
Sleep doesn’t come easy when a broken twig conjures images of a hulking mental patient snapping the arms off children, over by the bin.
His smile is a stranger resting on a haunted face, only coming out for poisons turning him into a ghost.
He brings the cigarette butt to his mouth and lights up. He breathes in, and coughs; a rattling helicopter with a broken blade crashing into a herd of trombone playing sheep falling off a cliff into a DIY shop with a discount on spanners.
Love is born from disagreeing over something we believe in. Hate is born from disagreeing over something we fear.
I listened to the crashing thundering of a tiny tear tumbling like a wave down her beautiful face.
I was just another lost soul screaming through the paper thin hotel walls into the ears of the fucked.
Friday dusk becomes Friday evening. The park is feverish with life. A young Asian man screams into his mobile phone, not stopping to listen: a young man with his heart in his penis.
The question should be who do we want to be when we grow up, not what.
My landlord lives in the flat at the bottom of the stairs. I rent a studio flat from him, and live at the top of the staircase. There are two more flights of stairs and four more flats, but it’s me he is obsessed with.
They put money into attack, by calling it defence.
A watched pot never boils, but if I took my eyes from these negative thoughts for a second they would spill over the edges of my lips, and boil the beautiful moment alive as we lived it.