Puddles reflecting perfect versions of the night,

and I’m too busy jumping over them to take any notice.


10:27 PM


You left before dawn, without a goodbye.
I suppose the packed bags by the door should’ve been plenty of warning.
But waking up alone on these cold October mornings is a special kind of torture.
The apartment was barren, not even a slow dripping tap in the kitchen to keep me company.
You and the dog, gone.
Although your smell had not entirely left, and there was a strand or two of your hair still on the pillow and in the drain of the bath tub.
The coffee was nowhere to be found.
Did you take it?
We have a full can at the beach house so I don’t know why you would’ve taken it with you  (if you did?).
My train is at half nine tomorrow morning, I’ll get a taxi from the station.
I should arrive just in time for us to have lunch on the terrace.
I’ll try and bring some sunshine.
Anyhow, call me when you get this message.
I love you.

Love and other cancer


I have a lump in my throat and a tight chest, all I have for the pain is a small box of non-prescribed pills, empty beer bottles and a dozen crushed roses.

I hate the colour red anyway.

It reminds me of the time of the month when you at least had an excuse.

Bring to nought


And who but me?
Behind your television screen
Playing with matches
Burning my worst ideas
Tearing whole pages out of notebooks
Saturated with non-sensical drippings
Of half thoughts
That I tried polishing to diamonds
Only to end up with paper cuts
And ink stains
The ashes pile high
Like sad snow