Love, lust and guts.
Lust is nothing more than the merging of the toxic them, and the poisonous you. Hopefully the acid neutralises the base, or one dilutes the other and the journey ends there before a kiss goodbye. If not, it’s a catastrophic explosion of blood, sweat and jizz and while you’ll hate their fucking guts, loathing their existence for time, it’ll be an experience you wouldn’t...
I’m out of excuses And all out of lies Can’t pretend anymore What isn’t mine The hearts talk Under our voices Then listen to others Don’t make our own choices Take time apart Let the pain manifest The gold’s covered in dirt The pain moves to our chest We can’t be friends When we want to be lovers But we forget what we want When we listen to others I hear it in your voice Let...
wake, sigh turn the alarm off moan splash face with water exhale “you look like shit” one more week and I’ll sort it out one more week and I’ll quit the job one more week and I’ll get sober straighten up, old mate because this fake smile is about to expire… and they’ll be onto you.
I didn’t ask for it but I fell in love with a girl more than I could fucking handle but the biggest error was her loving me back loving more than I deserved as if she was delusional as if I could ever see myself the way she saw me so I berated the woman tore her apart until she saw me for the monster I am put her in her place and she got the fuck out of my life so I sit here alone with...
The slow, easy death.
there are nights when the pen sits in front of you but there is nothing to write the guitar’s in the next room but you can’t hear a song the phone is in reach but there’s no one to call at least, no one who understands there’s nothing to wake up for tomorrow so you choose death but with friends and family who care and you love them enough not to put them through that you...
[Drunk when I wrote this. Don’t remember any of it. Looking at the time and date of the note it was 9 days ago and I was in a cab on my way to meet someone. More grammatically incorrect than most of my writings, but truer.] The most honest I’ve met. Chew your role. Tell the people. Time to go home. We’re all miserable. White eating black eating white eating black and so on and...
I fell in love in London, with a girl I knew for...
It was my last day in London. She sat down opposite me, and as my breathing, heart, raced, pounded, exited my chest… It was her. The one on the other side of the world, I knew I would meet. A little bit woman, a little bit lady, a little bit girl. Divine. Tortured. A perfect mess. She needed rescuing. We held eye contact. The sadness polarised us. I’d been riding the public transport...
Anonymous asked: I concur. What I would do to have the opportunity to pick your mind, probe it. Yet, I know I would just be disappointed.
Anonymous asked: I am intrigued by you. Yet, I find that everything you are is an illusion of some sort. C'est la vie.
It’s Tuesday, and you’re beautiful. And it’ll be exactly the same tomorrow… only Wednesday.
It washes over, showers down. Pours when it rains. Suffice to say, nothing left to say, or ask. Walk. Leave. Turn back. Not in that order. But question it everyday. Whatever decision you made, that’s the one you’ll regret.
Anonymous asked: how often do you watch porn?
Perhaps a little too honest.
Behind every dumb decision, every stupid thing ever said, all the good relationships turned to bad, stable jobs sabotaged, money spent, wasted, on ridiculous shit, intoxicants taken into my body, sad feelings when I should’ve been glad, happy and not mad, anxious, depressed, unfulfilled, self loathing over loving. Ruined the best fucking thing I ever had. It propels me to trip up and...
Munch (more from the Hard Fucking chronicles.
Being a serial monogamist has its advantages. There’s an intimacy in sex that explores far deeper than excessive promiscuity. Quality vs. quantity, right? You get to know a woman inside out, outside in. So when I began fucking my way through the cities, I expected to leave these women with a one night stand to remember… “Munch on it” “What?” “Munch on...
Silent sex (part of the Hard Fucking chronicles).
She asks to be fucked from behind. Pull her hair, scratch her back. Push her hard up against the wall. Bite her neck. But lay her down, slow it down, penetrate her deep… pause… Still. Look into her eyes. Silent. And watch her freak the fuck out.
Weed, bacon and hard fucking.
The Americans love their weed. They love their bacon… And the hard fucking. I pierced her eyes with mine and she knew the chit-chat banter was an indecent proposal. My unconscious crooked smile is a conscious one and it’s her way of knowing she won’t be disappointed. But in the company of friends no American girl wants to be coined a slut. She politely declines. If only I...
The body runs hot. The feet are cold. Story of my fucking life.
Man is being greeted with one of the greatest conundrums of her time. Science has answered some of the most important questions to existence. Space is infinite, yet definable. Life has been philosophised to death. Quotes inspire and contradict each other, all up in our face books. The words have been said, spoken in every order. Music has been played, now we just push its contrast - heavier,...
Life made easy (redux).
Pause. Now give up. Accept. Be content. Feel. Desire. Take action. Know you can’t control the outcome. Repeat.
The man should suggest a night, suggesting alternatives. She can then choose, but make it seem she’s working to his agenda. He should cleverly select a venue convenient for her but it’s decided by him. Remember to enquire about her diet, and make sure the venue has ‘light’ choices - she may want to appear dainty. He should confirm on the day in an indirect way, something like ‘do...
Asked the man for my soul back.
Knock on the office door, pull up a chair. Niceties shared after so much time shared together in this nice city. Hopefully, I can find money for food, clothes and shelter because I can’t live without my soul anymore.
When you just know.
When you know… You just know. The New-ageys will call it intuition. It will scare you, when the relationship is over but you’re trying to make it work. When it’s time to leave the job while there’s still bills to be paid. When you’re overdue for a change of scenery but you know no one outside your town. You know. You just know. And you have to go. So go. You might...
We all die young.
Watch a child dream, they do it while awake. Sketching images of monsters and made up things, wanting to be superheroes and galaxy travellers. Listen to a child rant with their grand ideas, from a place of infinity and abundance. They were there more recently. But we tell them better. Teach them to be lawyers, accountants, politicians and stylists. Yes, life is short. Our hearts die young. We all...
I want to scream. I want to run through the city at peak hour naked just to see how people will respond. I want to get in the car and drive. Just drive. I want to sleep more. Dream. Get so good at dreaming it’s more real than this and do the stuff I can’t do like fly and breathe underwater. I want to stand at the front of a bus, a full bus, on a rainy Monday morning and yell “it...
Gimme a sign.
I sit on a rock by the ocean and count the time before the drunk grow weary and the television shows are less appealing, in the hope that I can return to quiet, and these waves aren’t required to drown the noise. As I wait, I look up at the blanket of cloud shielding the stars, removing any hope of seeing signs of hope. It’s as if God is saying ‘not tonight Son, not...
It’s not so much that I’m not okay or sometimes morbidly sad or even think that I’m the slightest bit unique. Rather, that I’m aware of it and sometimes feel unique, because I’m the only one who’s noticed that it doesn’t have to be like this.
Last year she was sucking my dick from the passenger seat of my car. This year, not even so much as a message. Happy fucking birthday.
Welcome to Eden.
Oh, the snakes, the temptresses, that cross our path as we walk this earth. Glitz, tits, glutton and glamour, flashing lights, shortfalls and booty calls, stimulants, depressants, intoxicating our existence. But, when a man chooses the right path, eyes set far upon the horizon, stays focused… The bottle, babes and bucks remain out of sight. Out of mind. He can stride, like taking footsteps...
Not so far away.
Somewhere between the grass on this side of the hill and the grass on that side of the hill, is a mountain of time that doesn’t actually exist. As the switch is imperceptible, we may well be crossing back without having realised, that we’d already arrived.
Tastes like forget.
Sit down to this bottle, commence with civil sips. Tastes like forget. Responsible gulps and refills, it’s not enough and the wine turns to beer turns to shots, sipping on spirits. I’d be all right if I could sleep in a different body for the night. Cheap drinks shared with cheap women. Bullshit conversation, singing and laughing, bedding and laying. Fuck. Vomit. “Fuck”. Tonight it tastes like...
YouTube link. A couple of weeks ago I put a call out for ideas of what song I should cover to say thanks for the follows and support. marwa-a suggested “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”. So here it is. And, thank you everyone.
We turn the channels to be informed, check what state the world is in. Who’s fucking who is having who’s baby is getting divorced got murdered, engaged. Like an unavailable toilet stall. Stinky shit, intentional sniff. Looking outside as if they know better. Those voyeuristic masochistic turds. Remember when the stars were beautiful?
The usual route, same highway headed toward a definite but mediocre sunset. The bright light causes tears. The same sunset appears brighter and I’m wondering whether the sun has gotten lighter or if I’ve changed the way I’m looking at it. I have to get off this road.
Man will eat itself.
Heart birthed red, iron taste tongue, being is believing… This. Here. Now. Toxic breather black, footpath congested choke, harmonic idiosyncratic discord, out to lunch. Always. Out to lunch.
Carrying a takeaway coffee cup. Full. Of coffee. She wouldn’t allow entry. ‘You could’ve put vodka in it’ she said ‘smell it, it smells like coffee’ I said. The performer was running forty minutes late so I retreated from the mild night air wearing just a t-shirt and sat passenger side in my car. It’s a weird feeling sitting on the...
What song should I record?
Really grateful I’ve acquired so many followers so quickly. To express my gratitude, I’m going to upload a video of me performing a song in the next couple of weeks - your choice. Acoustic guitar and vocals, nothing too fancy. What would you like to hear?
Wind always makes me cranky. More so than rain. Rain makes me stay inside, grateful for shelter, enjoying the sound of the drops tapping the roof with perfect random beat. Wind gets all up in my face, like a bad mood that can’t be ignored. I sit inside, looking out at what would otherwise appear to be a perfectly, happy day. Perhaps that’s what it’s like looking at me.
I need to get this shower head fixed.
Snooze button pressed plural times before feet flop to the floor with an unenergetic, guttural sigh. A minimalistic wardrobe selection, ‘maybe I just need to hydrate better’. The water from the shower slaps my nape as I turn around maintaining a 45 degree neck angle catching the drops on my face, ‘looks like a sad scene from a movie’. Imaginary rainfall moves progressively...
She asks when she’ll see me again, but I’m hesitant to make love a second time. That’s where I went wrong, I was making love, not having yet mastered the art of fuck. Rarely is the first time so silk smooth, so seamless. When I do engage in a second time, a third time… I become acquainted with her curves and creases, the nuance of ‘she’, the symphony and masterpiece of her moans. ...
I have become painfully aware of a lovely flame burning inside. A light. It burns with persistence, a reliable ember. Lately I’ve been catching glimpses. Glimpses that turn into stares. Flirting with it, cheeky crooked smiles and alluring eyes as I build the courage to ask it to dance, press myself against it, make love to it. When I experience these delightful interruptions, I’m inspired to...
I can't look at her smile.
It’s like the sun, her smile hurts to look at. I can squeeze her hand gently, before asking the waitress to bring her another knife. I can kiss her forehead, then fetch her a drink from the kitchen. I can hold her in the night, just because it’s nice to be holding someone. I can watch the sun come up with her, because we never run out of things to talk about. I can sit quietly with...
We are born, we strive and try for dear life. We don’t understand, obey the rules, break the rules, experiment, dabble in pleasure, in pain, in the unknown, dabble with dear life. We hurt, we cry, we love, and lose, lie awake at night, we think, obsess, compulsively. We feel alone, like we’re the only one struggling. Indulge, hide, intoxicate ourselves, and run for dear life. We crash and burn,...
I built her up to be something she wasn’t. So even if I changed or begged or pleaded - convinced her to come back… She never actually existed.