Sunday, 3 July 2016

This is bigger than you

This is better.

The more you pull yourself in, the more it unravels,
not out of sight, out of mind,
but with arms yearning, calling others to make home.

Monday, 21 September 2015

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Postcards from a Passing Passion

"I don't know why I'm talking about rugs, when I just wanted to say that I'm going to marry you so I can kiss you whenever I feel like it."


I don't know why you said what you said, but I get it now. Cheers.

Friday, 3 October 2014

Not You

"Maybe the problem is you."

Maybe, the problem is me.


She followed his hands as he fidgeted; the sachet of sweetener, the lip of his saucer in line with the table, his gaze in his coffee, his mouth pursed, thin and menacing.

"I don't know what the problem is."

The steady hum of chatter kept them locked in the moment. His coffee must have been really fascinating. She followed his eyes as they flicked around. 

"I need a moment."

I saw the irritation in her face, but couldn't bring myself care.  

"I don't have time to waste."

He kept staring at his coffee.

"There's someone else."

"I know."

"I know you do."

"Was that all this whole fucking episode was about?"

"I had to tell you."

"Fuck. Ok. Are you done?"

"I don't know why, though."

"Does that even matter?"

"It should, shouldn't it?"

"If it did, wouldn't this conversation happen before anything else?"

"I guess you're right."


Smoke strings dance in the flickering breeze. Sunsets come and leave. We remain where we are, walking in circles. Maybe, just maybe, the problem is...


Friday, 12 September 2014

In Soviet Russia

I dreamt of you last night.

You were distraught. I was numb and needy. You were in the throes of some woebegone passion, as if you needed to be validated, to be told that it wasn't you, it was me. 

And it was.

In a moment of confusion, I left you, but you found me. They looked, but couldn't see, while you pulled me closer, and with our passions inflamed, we were lost to our desires. You left me wasted, and as I watched you, perverse and shuddering with the force of a thousand shocks, I saw a wave of frightening realization, a snapshot of all my secrets.

The ground stopped shaking, and you walked away.

"This is what you have lost."


Hello. So glad to see you well.

Thursday, 10 April 2014

A History in Reverse.

"What are we, and what are we doing? Do you even know?"

He knew nothing, except that he wanted her. 


I am pining for you, while we sit here holding hands and heads and tongues. 
But she isn't yours. 
"I know." 
You can't have her. 
She's most probably going to want to never see you again. 
"Yeah, it seems like that."
Why are you such a fool?
"I think I enjoy the thrill."
Fair enough. Enjoy it while it lasts.


"No, no no no no. Why are you here?"
"I've come to take you home. Why else?"
"Fuck. This won't end well."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing. Have you come to take me home?"
Yes. I think.
"Yeah. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah. yeah, I'm fine. It's just... God, I hate him. He knew this would happen."
"You're not telling me something."
"No, no. it's okay. Hey, which way is home?"
He's obviously had too much to drink. This is going to be a struggle.
"Hold up a second. You can't even walk straight."
"God, he's such an asshole. He knew this would happen."
"There's something you're not telling me."
"I told him not to push me to it, but he never listens..."
He trips, and stumbles. His jeans rip from the knee. He's bleeding. He's too heavy for me to carry.
"Easy there. Are you okay? Shit, you're hurt."
"hahaha, I'm okay. I'm fine. Am I bleeding? I can't even feel it."
"Okay. Let's try this again, but this time, a little slower. There's no rush."
"You're always so nice, man. Why are you always so nice?"
"Umm. I don't know how to answer that..."
"You always take care of us. You don't have to."
This is not going to end well. I'm trying to stop myself, but I can't.
"You're a great guy."


Almost home, she stops in the middle of the road, turns to him, and looks at his shoes. I feel sick, she says. He tells her it's okay. It'll pass. It's just the drink. She'll feel better once she's rested. She shakes her head. I need to do something about this now. I'm always in control. When I'm not in control, I take control. Silently she adds: That isn't always a good thing. 

"You're in enough control. Come on, we're almost home."

Yeah. I'm in control. She grabs him by his coat lapels, and pulls herself up to him. On tiptoes, she puts her lips to his. She can feel him trying to breathe. Is he trying to calm himself? What have I done? Why? But she stops thinking, and keeps pressing. His arms wrap around her lower back, he pulls her closer, but he's still trying to breathe. She pulls away, holding still onto his coat. She looks him in the eye.

"When everyone turns, when everything is gone... The only thing we have left..." 

She waits. She thinks it through. She looks him in the eye. A tear runs down her cheek. Green eyes shimmer in the lamplit twilight. She pulls him closer, and whispers in his ear.

"Is each other."

He puts his lips to hers.