What’s the meaning of life? Okay, cliche question. Let’s get specific. What exactly is the point of being undead? That’s all most people are these days. They wander about with their mouths open, shambling about like they’re looking for the nearest pub or kebab shop. They don’t even bother sticking their arms out in front … More Story – The Simplified Life
What is the point of communicating with anyone if we cannot discuss ideas? Why do we let others off the hook so easily yet ourselves barely at all? Why does pain not dissipate as we get older? Why does stupidity increase exponentially? Is death really so bad? Why do we imagine the past still exists … More 13 Questions
I’ll take you your present So you can put it in the garage And not look at it again I’ll ask you how you are So you can tell me at length In excruciating detail I’ll tell you about my writing So you can ignore what I say, The passions go in one ear And … More Poem – Stresshead
May is humid, the rain is warm It is my season and you know it, I know what you’re about, Ogling my arse as I make my way through corridors, My skirt flaps opening at the back like lungs, I was born to succeed And you know I’ll get straight As without trying, Because – … More Poem – Exam Weather
I am Beatrice, My function is to be beautiful And to be unavailable, Eternally unavailable To you. The prick in your pants may throb, Or if you are less superficial, You may fantasise you love me For my mind, my character, My honesty, But I am Beatrice, unavailable The girl who sits in the cafe … More Poem – Eternal Image
I know, it’s a wordy title but for that I make no apologies. Years ago, in fact a short time before I had my nervous breakdown I was working in a job which sounded great on paper but which was slowly driving me mad. My mental health was already under fire and I was dragging … More Essays – Reclaiming Achievement – or the Magic Indian Rope Trick.
More ideas Struggle To emerge Pain is intermittent Sometimes unbearable, Usually just there Belief in something Anything; Nobody really cares, do they? Sleep and silence The people have all retreated Into their lives Friday afternoons When no-one is around As good as it gets Nobody reads my words I only … More Poems – Haikus