2 minute writing exercise - 22:32pm

You can't connect the dots
Because you have forgotten Sunday
You are that papered ribbon of a moment
When you wake up and forget who you are.

And the coffee-scented sunrise catching his dusty eyelids
Doesn't make the breath catch in your throat
Any more. The imagery's turned stale.
Your camera's out of film.

Innocence//Experience

"

If I were able to count using
Every cell on my burning skin
I still could not count
The number of times
That I have thrown myself
In a purposeless heap
Onto your unwashed bedsheets

Nor could I count
The number of times that
I have gagged on the porcelain crotch
Of the toilet bowl
The shower blasting
To conceal my moans

There are multitudes of
“3:35am and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life”
They creep behind my shuttered lids
Whilst I shiver in the unheated box
Of my cold water flat
They refuse to rise and be counted

Really, who could blame them.

"

Ode to My Shrinking Friend

“

You’ve been living too fast recently my dear and I hate being the one who helps you out of some stranger’s funky smelling bed sheets, who forces you to look in the mirror, forces you to look past the fading eye make up and bed head and to look at your sunken cheeks, the lack of vitality - or even feeling - in your eyes.

And I know it’s hard because we all want to squeeze ourselves into a life different from our own and convince someone enigmatic and mysterious that we are equally enigmatic and mysterious.

And I know you hate who you are when you’re strewn amongst last night’s abandoned hopes with your dress hitched up around your hips and some guy telling you to shut up because your crying turns him off.

And I know it’s hard to be yourself when you loathe who you are but I love you. And I want you to let me in and allow me to neutralise this acid that corrodes your biting heart and I need you to let me soothe those singe marks left upon the delicate fibres of your soul, the artwork of people who aren’t even worth a second glance.

So for one night, throw away your inhibitions and come roll down hilltops with me and we’ll swing in the playground and dance furiously to High School Musical like we used to at school discos, dizzy and giggling because 9 o'clock felt like the end of the earth. Hell, I miss seeing that smile.

”