our favourite enemies.

4 am. Soon. I watch my cat bathe his ears for what must be the hyperbole-th time. Scratchscratchscratch, lick paw, wipe ears, scratchscratchscratch, lick paw, wipe ears, scratchscratchscratch… There’s something melodic about it. Soothing. Which is just as well, I guess. Something ought to be. Soothed, that is. The jambled passageways inside me aren’t, that’s […]

Read More our favourite enemies.

Confessions, p.13a

What are you on about, God? And what does it have to do with me? When I ask this, God, you know, and I know, I’m not being intentionally abrupt or impertinent. I just want answers, and I’m tired of not having them. Which, of course, we both know, is pretty unfair of me. It […]

Read More Confessions, p.13a

As Strong as Death

Shit! Fuck!  no. The small internal monologue runs counter to outward appearance. Shit! Fuck! damnit. someone let him wander off on his own, silly bugger. The tree is huge; a monster. Beside it my father looks tiny; green shirt and purple vest helping him stand out against its bulk. Shit! Fuck! there’s mum, there’s auntie […]

Read More As Strong as Death

loneliest number.

[Part 1] Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani? … We are lonely things. Lonely creatures. Just look at those around you: the songs they sing, the things they weep at, the dancing, the laughter. We are a species that craves connection and community. We crave it. And yet it eludes us. If you don’t believe me, go […]

Read More loneliest number.

*yorick not included.

All minds are solitary in existence. … It’s what makes love so powerful. And makes horror so real. All minds, Horatio, are alone. All minds. All of them. All. … Fuck. … We comprehend our own comprehension, like a set of off-set mirrors allowing a glimpse of the back of your own head. We apprehend […]

Read More *yorick not included.

i shall wear victory.

And thus the world wobbles on its way. Wobble, wobble. Wobble, wobble. Wobble. Wobble. hey. Sometimes things don’t go as you’d hoped. Sometimes, they do; but not the way you’d planned. Sometimes, well, it doesn’t really matter does it? Because whatever you thought is irrelevant in the face of what is. The storming momentum of […]

Read More i shall wear victory.

this poverty of mine.

Show don’t tell, they say. How can I relay the sour, trembling pain that rises from the gut up through successive clenched innards until finally, burning, it claws at your throat? The mind goes numb in an attempt to escape the shadows of external realities cast therein; fleeing, particularly, the terrible knowledge that it has […]

Read More this poverty of mine.