Archive for the Nonsense words category

Movable equation

a little lost a lot lost more than equals some­thing if that then this then what’s what maybe lost over still vaguely remin­is­cent of for­got­ten

The shock of the new is now old

“Don’t I know you from some­where?” I’ve become a man­ic col­lect­or of noth­ings. Mince words, bleed mouths. I don’t dream of viol­ence. Though I day­dream of viol­ence. That’s why there is no viol­ence. Primar­ily, I throttle up revul­sion. I was sur­prised by my pay­mas­ters. Every­one demands the right to com­ment. I stopped listen­ing thirty-two years […]

Tunnel visions

Some­times I seem too ordin­ary. I con­sider (too much) how I appear to the cam­er­as. Click and whirr, be free my ima­gin­a­tion, such as. It is. What little remains. Go. I can laugh at noth­ing. For hours on end. With dead end echoes for com­pany. Com­pany. I’m sure we all want to hear the joke. […]

This is a needlessly lengthy title that says nothing about me, my life, my deep-seated desires or my depraved intentions, but it looks clever on paper, even if it does end up completely breaking the carefully designed template of my site — though, frankly, I am past caring if it does

So words sit under my skin, mak­ing me itch and scratch, mak­ing me shake and puke like some kind of recov­er­ing addict. A junkie who now prefers one sub­stance to anoth­er. Sweats and shits and sick­ness and sore­ness. The words, they want to stay there because it’s warm. I want them to stay there because […]

Semi-automatic #3

We should grow beards, take up axes and dulled knives, then stab the taw­dry nat­ives in their skinny, bone-stacked backs. Don’t look the fuck­ers in their faces. Don’t meet their gaze. Skin them alive and we can make fires and coats and leath­er boots. We can stay warm until Feb­ru­ary, if we’re lucky. Okay, okay, […]

Semi-automatic #2

This time of night, the pav­ing stones sing to no one and to every­one. They chant their drunk­en chor­uses and non­sense rhymes. I wish I was with them, into and without their sweaty tor­sos, singing mean­ing­less groans and inebri­ate anthems to the upper floors and the dis­tor­ted heav­ens, scud­ding fast and loose without pur­pose. Come […]

Semi-automatic #1

I wake with spiders spin­ning their slither­ing webs across my eyes, and taste them hatch­ing their eggs on my lazy, lolling tongue. There’s a rolling, salty, dirty ocean drag­ging my limbs down into its oily depths. I mur­mur ques­tions and wait for answers. Do you still keep keep your plants in an open-air cup­board? Do […]

He’s got a screw loose

When my head imploded, it col­lapsed in on itself, slump­ing to half its nor­mal size. It had been young and smooth once, but over the years it had become just one more sag­ging bal­loon, wrinkled and droop­ing at the tail-end of some spoilt child’s birth­day party. My shrunken head slipped fur­ther and fur­ther down into […]

Tamper-proof

My floor is medi­cin­al. My car­pet is chem­ic­al. My ceil­ing is pois­on. My win­dows myop­ic. And my walls, my walls are a punc­tured, pock­marked epi­derm­is, stretched tight over the crooked frame beneath. Tonight, I pierce them with a screw­driver and watch them bleed down to their skirts; tomor­row, I will mois­tur­ise them until they smooth […]

These invisible lines

I attempt to lasso the world, twice daily or more. I draw ‘cut here’ dashes around my skull and invite all to delve, safe in the know­ledge that any­thing remotely break­able has been removed for safe­keep­ing. I rope in the sun and daub it with a soldier’s cam­ou­flage. I tear the clouds apart. I push […]

Scraps of evidence

Oh, the plans. The plans I had. Each of them scrawled on crumpled paper, fol­ded and fol­ded again for good meas­ure and secrecy until they bulged with so much prom­ise and barely repressed youth­ful vigour. Thought­lessly stuffed in care­worn pock­ets patched over sternums and along­side thighs, warm enough to sleep well — all too well […]

Coded promises

That’s right, that’s right, that’s you. You come along here, bold and brazen as you like, and you smash glasses, crock­ery, fin­gers and thumbs, sticks and stones against the rocks, you break my bones because names will nev­er hurt me, and then you lean for­ward. Con­spir­at­ori­ally. War­ily. Care­fully. Cast your eyes into my skull and […]

As surely as the sun rises

I don’t climb the walls when i wake. No, I wait for them to des­cend to my level, so that I can rap my knuckles three times on the ceil­ing, without even stretch­ing, and check that the roof is still present. That doesn’t make sense, how­ever, because last night I slept under a can­opy of […]

Turnupspeed

Blood pump­ing. Heart racing. Fin­gers dan­cing. Keys rat­tling. Tap­ping. Not sure. Simply not sure. This is tomorrow’s all day. All our tomor­rows could hap­pen in just one day. The ocean is so far away. I keep los­ing the few wits I have about me any and every time I see anoth­er part of you fall­ing […]

The map-reader’s search for co-ordinates

I looked under the car­pet, but all I found was fluff and floor­boards. I looked in the bot­tom of my glass, but all I found was a watery reflec­tion. I looked in the envel­ope, but all I found were let­ters that fell out into per­fectly dis­join­ted words. I looked up at the altar, but all […]

Gatecrashed

There are bod­ies of words all over the place. As I slept — or tried to sleep — last night, they obvi­ously invited them­selves round for a party at my con­sid­er­able expense. They are now sleep­ing in draw­ers, in corners of cup­boards, behind fur­niture, splayed lewdly over every avail­able sur­face. They are breath­ing loudly, mum­bling […]

No ball games, please

Magno­lia is an evil col­our. Whichever interi­or design­er it was who first came up with the idea that it speaks of calm­ing and sooth­ing and reas­sur­ing and home should be shot in the knees until they dance. Nine months ago, I covered this wall with three pairs of cats’ eyes in dif­fer­ent shades of psy­che­delia, […]

Christ on a bike

So the fact is that, for some days now, the Lord Jesus Christ has been rid­ing a bicycle up and down the short cor­ridor between my bed­room and my liv­ing-room. Being a rather retro Mes­si­ah, he appears to favour the clas­sic 1970s-style Raleigh Chop­per bike, the tyres of which are begin­ning to make deep grooves […]

Misheard

Bul­gari­an female choirs ser­en­ade me in my room, their unearthly wail­ing almost man­aging to drown out the Sat­urday morn­ing shop­pers and traffic out­side. Some­times I regret the stu­pid­ity that caused me to miss out on learn­ing a for­eign lan­guage, but not at a moment like this, when I can hear non­sense sen­tences cre­ated in the […]